Like A Vow
by Nicoccia
Summary: When their eyes met, Shoto felt nothing. If he was being honest he still didn't register what color her eyes were. This woman, Bashira Kobayashi, was merely his arranged wife. She was nothing else to him. AU, OC. Slow-burn, beware.
1. Prelude: Make My Story

She was plain looking at first glance. Black hair, long and straight. Shoto couldn't make out her eyes so they obviously weren't anything striking like red or blue. She was in traditional clothing, too, meaning he couldn't measure much of her figure.

Shoto stood just inside of the shoji doors, appraising her.

Endeavor had told Shoto small things about her - probably only as much as the Pro Hero knew. Shoto doubted that his father had cared much about her character or personal traits. All that Shoto really knew was her Quirk: it manipulated time in some way.

That had been enough for Endeavor.

But Shoto watched her. He watched as she sat silently, stiffly, at the kotatsu, a quilt draped over her legs. She didn't look up when Shoto walked in. She only glared at the table-top, either in some kind of determination or in pure docility.

Shoto felt a tiny twinge of sympathy and edged into the room towards her. When he reached the kotatsu he kneeled down but didn't pull the blanket over his legs. He hoped that separation would give her at least a little comfort.

Shoto didn't know what to say. He didn't have the best social etiquette to begin with, the unusual situation aside, so he waited for the girl to make some kind of move.

Eventually Bashira seemed to grow anxious with the silence and her eyes drifted upwards. Shoto noticed that her gaze lingered on his hands first, and then up his torso, but hesitated before reaching his face.

When their eyes met, Shoto felt nothing. If he was being honest, he still didn't register what color her eyes were.

This woman, Bashira Kobayashi, was merely his arranged wife. She was nothing else to him.

Still, Shoto noticed that Bashira was grinding her teeth, as if trying hard to keep a straight face. Her stare was forcefully harsh but it lacked conviction. Shoto's gut again stirred and softened for her.

This wasn't her fault. She was a victim. They both were.

When his father had first told him about this arrangement – this Quirk Marriage – Shoto had been furious. One of his first thoughts was of his mother, who had been forced into a relationship with his father without her own approval or benefit considered.

While Shoto studied Bashira, he noted everything he would have expected. She was defensive and guarded, with an underlining threat of aggression. Shoto knew she hadn't been as formally trained as him with her Quirk and probably wouldn't be much of a challenge if she lashed out. He could handle any outburst she might ignite.

Shoto just hoped it wouldn't come to that, despite the fact that he wouldn't really blame her for it.

The odds seemed in Shoto's favor, as Bashira only continued to watch him back. Slowly but surely the tension in her features slipped away, morphing her expression into something more vulnerable. Her lips un-pursed and dipped downwards in a pout. Her glare loosened but didn't lose all of its wariness.

The silence between them became increasingly potent. Shoto sighed softly and turned his gaze to the side, so that he wasn't still staring at her.

"It's obvious that neither one of us is here willingly," Shoto said, gazing out the window to his right, "but the decision's already been made. We must each have our own reasons for going through with it. Let's just try to make this as painless as possible."

Shoto glanced back to Bashira. Her brows had furrowed and there was a bit of pink on her cheeks. Shoto could tell by the stiffness in her shoulders that she must be clenching her fists under the table.

He frowned. Maybe "painless," as in implying pain, wasn't the best choice of words.

Things went quiet again between them. Was Bashira naturally the laconic type or was it just the situation? Shoto wouldn't be all that upset if it was the former. He wasn't much of a conversationalist either. They could maintain their own space and lifestyles without getting in each other's way too often, once they were officially merged together.

"Why?"

Shoto re-focused on Bashira and was mildly surprised when she held his gaze evenly.

"Why are you going along with this?" she asked. Her voice was slightly hoarse – soft, but not timid. "What's your reason for agreeing to marry me?"

Shoto blinked once. His gaze drifted again as he thought back to the answer to Bashira's question.

A week ago, there would have been no way in living Hell that Shoto would have thought he'd be sitting across the table from a girl his father had chosen for him – the day before their wedding, none the less. He'd never even thought about marriage yet, so a _Quirk Marriage_ was that much more outrageous. In hind sight he shouldn't have been so shocked, though. Of course his bastard dad would have been planning this all along.

Shoto still managed to underestimate his father sometimes. Endeavor was more than just brawn. The new Number One Hero had thought ahead to predict Shoto's reaction perfectly, and he knew exactly which trump card to pull. There was only one reason that Shoto was being obedient. There was only one way that Shoto would have ever bent to the will of that man.

"My father promised me something in return," Shoto said carefully. "Something important to me."

Bashira's lips twisted, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer, but she didn't push any further.

"At least you're getting something out of this, then," she said. Her features settled, and her expression became distant. "I just didn't have a good enough reason to say no."

Shoto wondered what exactly she meant by that but wasn't bothered enough to ask. She could elaborate if she wanted to. Or not. They had time.

They had the rest of their lives.


	2. Chapter One

"I wonder what they're building over there," Kaminari commented, looking off to a further corner of the campus. "They started up construction so early this morning."

"Oh, yeah," Kirishima piped. "Looks like they have all the bones up already. It's too small to be a training room or anything, though. Maybe they needed more office space?"

Some of the boys from Class 3-A were lounging outside of Heights Alliance, enjoying the mild weather. It was Sunday so there were no classes. Shoto was leaning up against a tree, shaded from the sun. Kirishima sat in the grass, his arms wrapped around his legs loosely. Kaminari stood beside him, arms crossed and basking. Midoriya was sprawled out on his back while Bakugo was a ways away, under another tree, probably trying to ignore all of the others despite having come out with them.

Shoto wanted to keep his mouth shut. He should have. But in those few moments that lapsed in the conversation his mind was reeling. If he didn't say anything, he'd basically be lying to them. What would happen when he moved out of the dorms and everyone noticed him gone?

"It's for me," Shoto eventually said. He kept his eyes closed, his chin dipped in a show of nonchalance. "My old man requested the new housing."

There was a moment of heavy silence as his classmates processed the information. Simultaneously, an exaggerated scoff came from Bakugo while Kaminari choked on a laugh.

"You fucking kidding me?" Bakugo seethed.

"I guess being the kid of Number One has its perks," Kirishima added with a well-meaning grin.

"What, you're too "golden" to room with the rest of us now?" Kaminari snickered.

Midoriya had sat up in interest, only observing the exchange as it progressed.

"It's not that," Shoto answered, lowering his head further. "I got married yesterday."

Cue the screech of the proverbial record.

"…It's newlywed housing," Shoto finished.

The shock seemed to last for hours. Shoto did his best to stay neutral but on the inside he was sweating just the slightest. He knew it was a weird thing to admit. Even to him the confession seemed surreal.

He was a married man now.

He had a _wife_.

Shoto really couldn't remember what exactly the other guys said once they came back around. It honestly just sounded like a lot of screaming. The one thing he was acutely aware of was Midoriya, who'd jolted up and come to face him.

"Todoroki," Midoriya said, placing a hand on Shoto's shoulder. Shoto was vaguely aware of Kaminari and Kirishima flailing in the background but he managed to center his attention on Deku. "This is so sudden. Was there even… I mean…" Midoriya gulped before meeting Shoto's eyes.

Shoto knew what Midoriya was trying to ask. He maintained eye contact, keeping his expression cool. "It's what you think it is," he answered simply. Midoriya's breath caught in the back of his throat but he regained himself quickly, tightening his grip on Shoto's shoulder in support.

That first day went slightly better than expected overall, but once classes resumed on Monday Shoto was in for a whole new slew of interrogation.

"You didn't even tell us you had a girlfriend! Now you have a wife?! WHAT THE HELL?"

"Is this even legal? We're still in high school!"

"He's seventeen, _kero_. You only need a parent's permission."

"Trust a guy like Todoroki to announce that he got married like it was nothing."

"She must be super cute, right? A totally catch~ That's why you had to snatch her up so fast!"

"Why weren't any of us invited to the wedding?"

"How was it? Where was the reception, what was your theme?"

"Never mind any of that – how was your _wedding night, huh_?"

Shoto kept his eyes closed, his brow twitching minutely. He knew his classmates would be overly curious but the onslaught was still a little irritating. He was more sensitive about the subject than he'd expected.

"We didn't have a reception," Shoto responded, singling out the easiest question. "Or a wedding, really. We just signed some papers at the courthouse."

It was the girls, primarily, who whined at the news.

"That's so unromantic!" Hagakure's uniform wiggled.

"Yeah, really," Ashido scoffed. "Did she even have a say in that? No girl wants to just sign papers at a government office! A wedding is supposed to be an _experience_."

Shoto felt somewhat baffled. He and Bashira were in a common state of mind that their marriage was purely political, but he had never given much thought to the fact that she might have wanted a real ceremony. Girls usually did, didn't they? Weren't wedding days something they dreamed about their entire lives?

Then again, their circumstances were far from normal. Why would Bashira want to celebrate it?

While Shoto wallowed, Yaoyorozu prodded his arm with her pencil.

"This wife of yours," Yaoyorozu began, her tone careful, "she must not be from around here, is she? Not from this school, at least."

Shoto nodded. He didn't know where Bashira was from, honestly. Just that she'd be moving into their suite by the end of the week.

Yaoyorozu was clearly uncomfortable (did she guess what had really happened so quickly?) but gave Shoto her best smile. "That all sounds so stressful, for you both. Maybe when she feels up to it you could send her to the girls' dorms? We could take care of her for a while. Make her feel welcomed."

Despite himself, Shoto was relieved. If nothing else, maybe Bashira could make some friends. He doubted he would be all that great of a husband (considering he had no desire to be a husband _in the first place_ ) so maybe his classmates could fill in for some of what he was lacking. For now, it seemed like the most logical he could do for her.

"Sure," Shoto said. "She might like that. Thanks."

* * *

The newlywed housing was completed by Tuesday. Bashira could have moved in right away but she'd waited until Saturday morning. Shoto didn't really care or blame her either way. It gave him some extra time to adjust, too.

Neither one of them had too many belongings to place. Shoto was completely settled in by the time Bashira made her appearance. Even then, he was impressed by how little time it took her to unpack. He'd made himself busy studying in one of the spare rooms while she moved in, and by mid-afternoon Bashira had declared she was done.

"I still have to stock us up on more of the basics," she had said, "but otherwise my stuff is all put away, and we just have to work out decorating."

Shoto didn't care much about decorating (he immediately thought of picking out wall decals and color-coding needless pillows) so he'd nodded but didn't take her words to heart.

"My classmates want to meet you," he said instead. He wasn't sure if it was too soon, but he figured he'd get it out of the way. "When you're ready, the girls want to have a sleepover or something."

Bashira's expression went numb. She'd handled everything pretty well up until then, but Shoto still got the feeling she may not have been so poised with handling situations she hadn't prepare herself for. He was vaguely reminded of Yaoyorozu, which was pretty fitting considering the class rep had been the one to extend the offer to begin with.

"Okay," Bashira responded, somewhat belatedly. "We can do that some time."

* * *

Bashira didn't leave their condo for at least a week. She'd done things here and there, setting up what décor she could with the materials at hand, but she didn't attend any public meals. Shoto knew there were some snacks and simple food stashed in their kitchen but the girl definitely hadn't had anything substantial since she'd moved in. He didn't worry much. She was still getting used to everything.

It was an unspoken arrangement that Bashira got their bedroom to herself. Shoto had no choice but to keep his clothes in there but he'd opted to sleep in the spare room instead. The floor was tatami, of course, and a small futon worked just fine for him. The bed in their bedroom was a Western style frame and mattress, which wasn't what he would have preferred anyway.

In the mornings, Shoto fell into a routine. He would roll up his futon, head into the kitchen to fuel up, and then knock on Bashira's door to get his uniform. She was always awake. Sometimes still in bed, reading, and other times sitting by the window reading in the sunlight. One of the first things Shoto could confidently say about Bashira was that she seemed well read.

The Monday after her first full week in Musutafu, Bashira was predictably up-and-running when Shoto knocked. She called her permission to enter, but it came as a twist that she was fully dressed when Shoto opened the door.

She was fully dressed in a female U.A. uniform.

Shoto only took one step into the room before he paused, tilting his head at her. Bashira was leaning close to a body-length mirror hung on one of the walls, applying make-up.

' _She wears make-up?_ ' Shoto thought to himself. That part wasn't all that strange, he reasoned. ' _She's attending classes now?_ '

Bashira finished whatever she was doing to her face and turned around. A little late, Shoto noticed that there was pop music playing from a device somewhere in the room.

Bashira clasped her hands and gave Shoto a tight smile. It seemed like she was reading his mind. "Principal Nezu gave me the first week off but I still have to graduate, you know? I'm enrolled in General Department Studies."

It seemed so basic, but Shoto somehow hadn't thought of it. Bashira would still need to go to school. Why didn't he know about her enrolling until then, though?

Come to think of it, how old was Bashira? She had to have been at least seventeen to get roped into this – but not old enough to have finished high school, apparently. Maybe eighteen? They must have been in the same grade.

Shoto brushed those questions away.

"I've never actually shown you around the campus," he realized aloud. "Do you need help getting to your classes?"

Bashira took a half-step so that she was facing away from him, her weight on one leg. "I have a map, I'm sure I'll be fine."

Shoto didn't know if she was being honest or trying not to bother him, but he accepted her response and moved into the room to get everything he would need for school. Bashira went back to the mirror. At that point, she was just dabbing at her skin to keep her hands busy.

Being the new kid transferring mid-term, during her senior year, to one of the top schools in the world because of some sick breeding program…

Was just the cherry on top of Bashira's screwed-up life.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **For the record, I'm going to resist the urge to make Author's Notes after this one. :]**

 **Also for the record, I don't read the manga, like, religiously. And I've only been watching MHA casually, as it's released on TV. So as much as I try to research I'm bound to hit some snags with the canon. I'm still figuring out my original plot as I go, but the general outline of this story is that it's a** semi-AU future fic **. I have some ideas about how different things will be by the time the cast are seniors but for simplicity's sake, think of this as me just plopping everyone from the current era two years ahead, with only minimal/vague changes.**

 **This story may feel choppy and stiff for a while while Shoto and Bashira are learning to bond. As their relationship develops, the flow should improve. (I hope!) ^-^***

 **Please feel free to point out any info or major plot points that I miss; I don't want to venture TOO far off the beaten path.**

 **Please feel even more free to review or give private feedback, of course~**


	3. Chapter Two

The first day at U.A. had been frustrating for Bashira. She'd been dreading her introduction and all the perplexed looks her classmates would give her. Everyone had been cordial but no one went out of their way to wrap her up in conversation or ask any any questions. Bashira was grateful but she also felt a little guilty, wondering if the other students really could see through the smile and sense all of her inner ' _stay the hell away from me'_ vibes.

Most of the lessons were gibberish to Bashira, too. It made sense that an elite academy like U.A. would be further ahead on the national syllabus than Bashira's country-side school. Besides that, half of the problem was that Bashira barely had the energy to focus. Her head hadn't stopped buzzing in weeks.

Grades seemed like the least of her worries lately anyway.

Lunch break came, and it was easy for Bashira to follow along with the crowd. She made it to the cafeteria and joined the queue for food. It was only then when she wondered if Shoto would try to find her during their shared break.

Would he want her to sit with him? She'd most likely have to meet the friends he'd talked about – those girls who wanted to hang out. Bashira had given the idea some thought during her down time in the apartment, and the deeper she delved into it the more anxious she felt about it. Could his classmates really be that friendly or did they have ulterior motives? Had any of them had some kind of relationship with Shoto before and were only out to torment her?

Bashira shook it off, for what felt like the millionth time, thinking that scenario was the _second_ least of her worries. More than anything, what made her the most nervous at that moment was potentially sitting beside Shoto in public.

It seemed stupid, but it was real. She wasn't ready. How was she supposed to behave with him around other people? Did anyone know the full story? Was she supposed to ignore it all and act like it was no big deal? Play along like she was giddy just to make a good impression, just to to keep up Shoto's image?

Almost without realizing it, Bashira edged away from the line. She kept her gaze down – lest Shoto happened to be nearby and tryinging to catch her eye – and made a painfully slow journey across the canteen, towards the exit. She really had been looking forward to food. Her stomach had stopped growling days ago, but she knew a decent meal would probably help with how out-of-it she'd been feeling. No amount of pain killers had eased her headaches the way a real meal would have.

Oh, well. It's not like she was going to die.

' _Or maybe I could,_ ' Bashira thought sardonically as she found a door that lead outside. She threw her body against it. The light outside blinded her for her first few steps but she found a bench not too far away and plopped down. She was content to close her eyes out there, letting her head fall over onto her shoulder. She could vaguely hear some chatter from around her, but it was all too far to pinpoint. The noise was strangely comforting. At least she wasn't alone, and at least the people around her seemed happy.

The lunch period passed in the snap of a finger for Bashira. Some part of her was aware of a ringing, which must have been a warning bell, but her consciousness wasn't completely engaged to respond. She thought she'd only slouched over for a minute to doze off, but somehow when she came to she was somewhere unfamiliar. It was obviously a medical office, and she gradually put the pieces together to realize she must have been with the school's nurse.

Bashira didn't have enough time to analyze it more, because she completely panicked when she noticed that Shoto was sitting beside her.

* * *

Shoto didn't know what to feel. So without any particular emotional response, he just reacted rationally.

" _I don't at all agree with what Endeavor organized here_ ," Recovery Girl had said a little earlier, " _but the fact of the matter is that you both agreed to this union. Children as you are, you two need to realize the responsibilities you took on – your responsibilities to each other_."

It made sense to Shoto. He'd given Bashira space to let her work everything out, but he probably should have been more attentive. He had known she hadn't been taking care of herself. He could have stepped in before it went so far.

From what Shoto figured, Bashira had only been out for about twenty minutes. He'd barely made it into the classroom when Cementoss caught him with a summon to the infirmary. It was probably better that way, so that class didn't get interrupted and attract everyone's attention. Shoto wasn't sure if anyone had even noticed him slipping away.

Shoto had already assumed that Bashira was the most likely reason he'd been called but it was still somewhat jarring for him to see her laid out on a cot, blankets pulled up over her uniform and a cloth draped over her forehead. It seemed a little extreme for someone who'd only passed out, but Shoto noticed the way Recovery Girl seemed to hover over Bashira; the older woman must have felt some extra need to dote on her.

Recovery Girl was soon needed elsewhere, though, so Shoto was left sitting beside Bashira by himself. He didn't think it was really necessary. She'd undoubtedly be fine, and he wouldn't exactly be a great comfort to her once she woke up anyway. He would have rather been in class but thought better than to complain.

Thankfully, Shoto didn't have to wait long. Bashira came to quietly, blinking and taking in the scene in front of her. When her gaze drifted over to Shoto she visibly startled but to her credit masked it almost instantly.

Bashira parted her lips slightly. Shoto thought she was going to say something until she re-set her jaw. "How are you feeling?" he asked her instead.

"Fine," Bashira responded, out of reflex. She realized she gave the obligatory answer to the obligatory question and elaborated. "Better, actually. Almost like normal."

Shoto nodded. The exchange lapsed there. Bashira eventually looked away, one of her hands reaching to grasp her opposite elbow. Shoto shifted in his seat before standing, sensing his out.

"Since you're okay, I'd better get back to class," he said. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets.

"Yeah, sure."

Shoto moved towards the door, but Bashira's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry you had to come down here. I guess they didn't have anyone else to call."

Shoto was rooted for a few seconds. Something about her words went deeper and struck some kind of chord in him.

Still, he continued on his way. "It's fine. I'm glad you're alright."

* * *

Recovery Girl sent Bashira back to class soon after. The teenager walked through the halls at her own pace, debating if she should even go to her next lesson at all. She could just head back to the apartment instead, change into some more comfortable clothes, and hold herself up in the bedroom. She doubted anyone would really discipline her for it, since she was such a "special case".

Bashira slowed down, lost in thought. It was a habit for hers to fall back on some kind of handicap. Her teachers back home used to let her get away with things all the time. She'd just tell them she was "too distracted" or "under a lot of stress" to get out of assignments. They were all too soft.

But Bashira wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't home anymore. She'd been thrown into what felt like a different world, given a new life, and now she needed to figure out how she was going to make it her own.

For better or for worse, against all odds, she was standing in the middle of the greatest Hero school in the world… and thinking about skipping class.

' _What a brat_ ,' Bashira scolded herself, smirking internally. She took a deep breath, gathering herself, before trudging her way on to her next lesson.

* * *

Shoto went back to the apartment after classes let out, wanting some time to himself before he returned to the main campus for dinner. The complex that had been constructed for newlyweds was actually made up of four units, despite the fact that he and Bashira were the only couple occupying one of the suites.

" _It's as if they want to normalize this for other students_ ,' Shoto had seethed when he'd found out.

Regardless, he'd settled into the abode well enough and had to admit the staff had done well in modeling the interior after the room he'd set up for himself in Heights Alliance. There were some more modern elements blended in, but Shoto suspected those had been integrated to appeal to Bashira. The juxtaposition didn't bother him – it was all actually complementary in its own way.

Shoto wasn't sure if Bashira had beaten him back or not. The apartment seemed quiet, but it always was. He made his way to the bedroom and peeked in since the doors were open. It looked empty. And because Bashira spent most of her time in that one room, he had to figure she wasn't home.

Could she still be with Recovery Girl? He was sure she had been fine when he'd left her. Maybe he'd been hasty to dismiss her condition?

There was still half an hour until dinner, but Shoto felt too anxious to stay in the apartment. He changed into casual clothes and decided to head out early. Class 3-A was cooking a big meal in the dorms and had invited him (and Bashira) over. He'd assumed ahead of time that Bashira wouldn't be up to it, and her absence seemed to prove as much.

When Shoto opened the front door, Bashira was – ironically – just coming up the path. She'd only been a few steps away from the threshold, so despite catching herself on a dime the two were practically closer than ever.

Shoto could hear Bashira's breath catch once she did stop, their noses a meter apart.

"Oh," Bashira said, taking an immediate step back. "Hey."

Shoto nodded in return. There was an awkward lull between them. Some part of Shoto wanted to ask her where she'd been, but he also didn't want to come off as controlling.

"Are you feeling better?" he questioned. He felt uncharacteristically stupid right after. It was almost the same thing he'd asked back in Recovery Girl's office.

"Yeah," Bashira replied, seemingly unfazed. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Actually, I went to the gym after class. I only looked around, but I think I'd like to start training more regularly again. To feel better."

Shoto was caught off guard, yet his face betrayed nothing. Bashira couldn't read him at all.

"That's good to hear," Shoto said. Bashira was torn between taking it as a supportive comment or a confession that he thought she needed some physical work.

There was more silence until Bashira spoke. "Were you heading somewhere?"

For a split second Shoto considered lying, but ultimately there was no need.

"My classmates are preparing dinner in the dorms tonight," he told her. "They invited us both over."

Bashira barely reacted, but Shoto somehow felt like he knew she was uncomfortable. She hadn't seemed too keen on socializing so far. He could guess what kind of questions were running through her head.

"You're welcome to come," Shoto said, "but if you need more time I'll tell them so. They'll understand."

Bashira averted her gaze, debating her answer. As he watched her Shoto noticed for the first time, in the waning sunlight, that her hair was actually tinted indigo. Not just stark black.

Bashira's shoulder slumped as she sighed. "It has to happen sometime, right?" She lifted her eyes to Shoto. "Do you mind waiting a few minutes for me to change?"

While she looked at him, Shoto realized her eyes were a deep shade of evergreen.

Shoto nodded in agreement and stepped aside to let Bashira in.


	4. Chapter Three

Class 3-A hadn't been completely counting on Bashira's company for dinner, but that didn't stop the girls from preparing a more elaborate meal than usual – and Sato from going _a little_ overboard with desserts.

When Shoto showed up with his wife in tow everyone had seemed some level of surprised to see her. Thankfully they all controlled themselves and gave her a warm, not-totally-overwhelming welcome.

He wasn't sure if it helped or not, but Shoto stayed by Bashira's side as everyone took their turns introducing themselves. Bashira kept up her smile throughout the process but she seemed fidgety, one of her hands reaching back to twirl the ends of her hair, which she'd tied up into a ponytail.

"I'm Bashira Kobayashi," she said once the rest of the room had finished. "Obviously you all know who I am."

Amid the second round of waves and a chorused "nice to meet you" Kaminari's voice stuck out.

"It's 'Bashira Todoroki' now, isn't it?" the blonde grinned. Despite it being teasing on his part, Bashira's fingers stilled in their twirling and her face blanched. Some of Shoto's classmates noticed the change.

"Actually, adopting the male's surname is getting a little archaic these days, _kero_ ,"Asui supplied.

Jiro crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Yeah, it's pretty chauvinist to assume the girl is just going to change her name right away to conform to old school traditions."

Kaminari retreated under a dark cloud. "I didn't mean anything by it," he cried, holding his arms up in defense, "that's just the way it usually works!"

"No biggy," Bashira said, putting on another smile. "Besides, my own name has a better ring to it, doesn't it?"

* * *

To Bashira, Shoto's class was a bunch of characters. Almost all of them were affable from the get-go; their openness amongst each other and towards Bashira did more than she could have hoped to settle her nerves. The girls were the most out-going, but at the same time their friendliness was glaringly genuine. Bashira regretted guessing that they must have been maniacal shrews.

There weren't many mutation type quirks where Bashira was from so a few of the students – like Shoji and Ashido – put her more on edge than the others. Ashido quickly proved to be as bubbly as her skin, though, and Shoji (as well as Tokoyami and Koda, for that matter) mostly kept to themselves. By the time they all became acquainted the most intimidating person had become Bakugo, who'd been dragged out of his room by Kirishima and Sero. Bashira had no idea how no one else seemed bothered by the fact that Bakugo was both shaking and steaming in rage.

"C'mon," Sero had laughed, his tape cocooning Bakugo's body while Kirishima used his brawn to carry the incapacitated boy, "it's a 'Class A Family Dinner'. You can't skip it."

"'The hell do I care about whatever bitch that Icy-Hot bastard is bringing over?! I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO!"

Bashira felt a pang at the insult, but Shoto only sighed softly from beside her. That kid's attitude must not have been anything new.

The pink-cheeked girl, Uraraka, bounced up to Bashira. "Don't mind him. Bakugo's always like that. Maybe you'll remember him from our first Sports Festival? He's the one who had to be chained up during the award ceremony."

The food was done by then. Shoji used his extra arms to plate everything while Yaoyorozu and Jiro worked on passing out the full dishes. There was only one six-person table in the room so people found spots where they could, settling on couches and chairs or spare spaces on the floor. Bashira ended up sinking down at the table opposite Uraraka, with Shoto maintaining his place beside her.

"Uh, no, not really," Bashira admitted, sending a look of thanks to Yaoyorozu when she was handed her bowl. "I don't think I've seen much of any Sports Festival, actually."

Yaoyorozu, who'd sat at the head of the table beside Bashira, gasped daintily.

"You've never watched any of them?" the Everything Hero asked, pressing her fingertips to the center of her chest.

Bashira started twisting her hair again and shook her head. "No. The Sports Festivals aren't too popular where I'm from."

"Kobayashi-san," Midoriya started. He was seated on Uraraka's right and directly diagonal from Bashira. "Where are you from anyway?"

"Ashoro," Bashira answered. Seeing no reaction from anyone she broadened the scope. "Eastern Hokkaido."

Midoriya awed, and the rest of the room seemed to share his sentiment.

"That's quite a ways away," Iida commented. He was heading the table opposite Yaoyorozu. "The Shizuoka Prefecture must be a culture shock to you."

"A little," Bashira admitted, picking up her chop sticks. "Ashoro is mostly just farms and forests."

("She came all the way here for _that guy_?" Sero, despite being on the other end of the room, jabbed his thumb towards Shoto.)

"Everything there is pretty quiet," Bashira continued, either not hearing or ignoring Sero. "There aren't any big cities, or fancy schools or anything. It's simple. Basically like going back in time."

"Wow," Uraraka said, "I've never really thought about that before. That must mean there aren't really any Pro Heroes where you grew up then, are there?"

Bashira swallowed the bite of food she had taken, blinking up at Uraraka. She was impressed that the other girl, who'd seemed a tad air-headed at first, had connected the dots so quickly. "No. We run on more of an honor system, you could say. There's not really much more than petty crimes around there anyway, so the people with licenses take care of anything the police can't. It's not so glamorous that anyone calls themselves a Hero and makes it their career."

Bashira became suddenly, acutely aware that every eye in the room was on her. And every one of those eyes belonged to a person who was dedicating their life to become a Pro Hero.

"No offense," Bashira added lamely. "There is a Hero Academy near Sapporo, but that's still a little far from where I lived."

("It's like she's an alien or something," Ashido muttered from across the room.

Asui, who was cross-legged on the floor near Ashido's feet, remarked dryly, "Isn't that a little too ironic, coming from you?")

"You don't look like a country girl," a nasally voice cut in. Bashira wasn't sure where it came from at first, but a movement to her right brought her eyes down to the grape-vine boy, Mineta – _had he been hiding under the table the entire time?_

"With those tinted lips," Mineta went on, edging closer, "the winged eyeliner, edgy piercings…"

Mineta continued to inch in, and just as Bashira became uncomfortable enough to want to swat at him someone else did it for her.

"Sorry about him," Ojiro said with a genial simper. He's used his thick tail to knock Mineta over the head and consequently (also accidentally) unconscious. "You've probably noticed by now that our class is pretty weird."

' _An understatement_ ,' Bashira thought.

"I have to say I agree, though," Ojiro went on. "If we'd heard more about you ahead of time I would have expected something… different."

Bashira mulled his point over but could only shrug. "It's not like I was sheltered from everything. I had access to all the regular media." She stopped touching her hair and fiddled with the steel bar across her ear instead. "My grandparents never let me pierce my ears as a kid, so when I turned sixteen I got an industrial instead. It was an act of rebellion, I guess."

A few chimed in their opinions, but ultimately the direct conversation slowed enough for Bashira to get through more of her meal of rice and beef. It wasn't anything spectacular, but considering how bad her diet had been lately any kind of home-cooked meal tasted like gourmet.

Midoriya eventually redirected the exchange. "If you don't mind me asking, Kobayashi-san, what is your Quirk?"

Bashira's expression was a deadpan. Midoriya felt like he'd overstepped and withered under her gaze.

"It's called Zeitnot," Bashira replied. She didn't seem as willing to discuss her ability as she had been any other topic. "Essentially, it's time control."

"Interesting," Iida hummed. "Does your control over time work each way?"

"Sort of," Bashira said. "I _can_ do both, but speeding up time isn't very useful. It means that everything around me moves faster but I'm more or less catatonic in the meantime. It makes more sense for me to slow things down so that I seem like I'm moving at light speed to everyone else." While the rest of the room digested the information, Bashira added an anecdote. "Really, the only time I ever speed things up is when I want to skip out on being lectured, or want class to end quicker."

Some of the students snickered and expressed their jealousy over that particular skill, but Midoriya placed his chin in his palm, looking off in all seriousness.

"I see," the seaweed-hair murmured. "So you control the particles around you, but your own existence isn't altered?" Midoriya's voice grew more muffled and frantic as he continued. "That makes sense, then. If you can halt the passage of time within a certain radius, then Todoroki's limited ability to control his body temperature becomes almost irrelevant. It's no wonder why Endeavor wanted to combine your Quirks. If by chance you two produce an offspring that inherits all of your powers at once they'd be theoretically invincible if they trained to not solely rely on their abilities while slacking on overall stamina and tactical judgements…"

The food was forgotten to Bashira. She watched Midoriya, first through wide eyes and then a narrow stare. The boy clearly knew that her arrangement with Shoto was. Did everyone? Were Quirk Marriages really something wannabe Heroes didn't even bat an eye towards?

A nudge to her side caused Bashira to draw her attention to Shoto. Her husband never once looked to her, but the prod couldn't have come from anyone else.

What did that mean? "Stop glaring" for one, and most obviously. But why? Did Shoto not want to draw attention to Midoriya's analysis? Did he not want Bashira to question that kid's insight? Or maybe Shoto only wanted to forget the reality of what the two of them were, too. He could have been telling her to drop it.

Bashira debated for a few seconds, but then returned to eating without another word or look.

She didn't understand anything that went on in Shoto's head. She didn't know how much his friends knew or what they thought of her and Shoto's arrangement. But she was willing to play nice for now.

She could be the obedient, modest wife for at least a little while.

* * *

At the end of the night, Shoto and Bashira bid Class 3-A goodnight and headed back to their apartment.

Shoto was eased by how well everything had gone, but the comfort also made him wonder about potential trouble on the horizon.

Bashira had seemed to tense up with some questions, despite being remarkably amicable all around. She was slick with picking up on others' intentions and tones, Shoto realized; more so to the point that she seemed to over-analyze. He couldn't blame her, really, given that she'd been throw to the wolves with that class dinner.

Yet apart than that, Shoto had never heard Bashira express herself so much. In the beginning her smiles had been plastic, but once she got familiar with his friends the gestures became more natural. Bashira hadn't ever been so transparent when it was just the two of them. He'd learned a lot about her just acting as a witness.

It was normal, Shoto realized, for Bashira to be more guarded with him. He wasn't particularly bothered by the fact that they didn't share warm, joyous, stereotypical moments together. But as they walked that night, Bashira maintaining her distance a few steps ahead of him, Shoto wondered if they would get to that point one day.

Fuyumi had always tried to arrange special occasions for all of the Todoroki siblings (and Endeavor) to meet up and eat together. It rarely worked out for everyone (meaning Endeavor almost never showed) but when Shoto thought about it the meals were always memorable, fondly so. When their father wasn't around to ruin things, the Todoroki children were like-minded and bonded in their own ways. Shoto wished he would have, and could have, spent more time with them.

The subject had only been vaguely bridged by Midoriya's mumbling, but Shoto had been reminded that Bashira coming into his life had little to do with their relationship as a couple, and more to do with the Quirks they would produce together.

It still hadn't completely hit Shoto yet. He hadn't had any desire or felt any filial need to touch Bashira. Still, the reality stood that the two were paired together with that obligation in mind. One day, Bashira would need to be the mother of his children... whether their children were prodigies or not.

Shoto didn't have the slightest interest in being a father. He couldn't imagine it at all in his future. Still, if it did happen, he knew that he wouldn't be anything like Endeavor. Neither he nor Bashira were so twisted. If they did have to go through with that aspect of their arrangement, Shoto resolved that he would do it well. If Shoto had a family in the future, it would be the family that his mother had deserved, and that his sister still continued to strive for. He would change the stigma attached to the Todoroki name.

"Hey," Bashira's voice broke into Shoto's thoughts. He glanced ahead and noticed they were almost at the apartment. Bashira had seemed hesitant though, like she wasn't sure if she should talk to him or even knew how to address him. "Are you okay?"

Shoto regarded Bashira blandly. She was pretty enough, but that didn't mean much of anything to him. After meeting with his class and observing their interactions, Shoto learned that Bashira had an independent spirit. She's been raised traditionally but had enough spunk to try to explore the world and make decisions for herself. So far it didn't seem like she'd done anything too wild, though. She was unconventional but still respectable.

Shoto was almost relieved. If a Quirk Marriage had to happen, he couldn't complain about Bashira. They would get along fine.

"Yeah," Shoto responded, brushing past the girl as he made for their front door. "Just tired."

He unlocked the door and moved aside to let Bashira in before him. She entered, and Shoto followed suit. Once inside, they went their separate ways.

Shoto had to be glad that, of all people, he'd been paired with Bashira.


	5. Chapter Four

Even if she did get along with Shoto's class, Bashira didn't make any effort to seek out their company afterwards. The interactions had rejuvenated part of her spirit but she preferred to focus the extra energy on getting herself back on track.

The U.A. gym facilities were geared more towards combat training, but they did have regular machines like treadmills and weight equipment. Bashira didn't considered herself particularly athletic but she liked to put some energy towards maintaining an average level of fitness. Despite the lack of a drive to be a Hero herself, Bashira did have her provisional license (although she wondered it that even applied in her new, urban prefecture; Ashoro was probably a lot more lax with those legalities, after all). But if anything did happen to go down while she was around, she wasn't about to be dead weight.

Bashira had sucked up all of her sulking and started eating regularly. By the end of the week she figured she'd recovered enough for a workout.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that the U.A. gym was pretty packed in the hours before dinner. Aspiring Heroes would, of course, want to train as much as possible. Luckily enough for Bashira the battle simulators were slightly more popular than basic equipment, so she wasn't met with too much waiting time during her circuit training.

Unluckily for Bashira, just a few weeks of slacking had taken its toll on her endurance level. It'd been more difficult than it should have been for her to complete her usual routine. She was relieved to get through the self-disciplined session, but the amount of fight it had taken was almost equally discouraging.

After a brief shower Bashira trudged her way to the cafeteria. Her hair was tied up, still wet, and her face was bare. She wasn't so conceited that she wouldn't face the world without makeup but she wanted to avoid speaking to anyone regardless. She wasn't in the best of moods.

Of course, no such fate was in her favor.

The only people she knew in the academy were Class 3-A, so it just went to figure that some of them would be the ones to spot her. Bashira had already gotten her food and was trying to find a secluded spot when Kirishima called out to her.

"Hey, Kobayashi!" the crimson hero called out. Bashira was a bit baffled by how loud he was, but more than that she was praising the gods that he'd at least used her own last name. "Over here!"

More to get him to quiet down than anything, Bashira scurried over to the group. Kirishima was seated with Kaminari, Jiro, Sero, and Bakugo. She hovered close to them, not yet willing to take a place at the table.

"Hi, guys," Bashira exhaled. Her grin had to have been ridiculously artificial-looking. "What's up?"

"Not much, just the obvious." Kirishima smirked, gesturing towards their food. "Were you heading for your friends? You could sit with us, if you want."

Bashira wasn't sure how to respond. Seeing her hesitance, Sero flicked a bit of food towards Kirishima. "She's taken, Hard-Head. What makes you think she'd sit down with a bunch of eligible dudes without her beau's supervision?"

("I'm here, too," Jiro grumbled under her breath, without much notice.)

The boys scuffled a bit, but Bashira froze. That was the situation now, wasn't it? She was off the market – she _belonged_ to someone.

No other respectable guy would ever be interested in her again. Even if, as Kirishima assured soon after, he didn't mean anything " _weird_ " by it.

On the opposite end, Bashira wouldn't be able to flirt freely again either. She would never get to enjoy another crush. The next time a boy gave her the warm-and-fuzzies it would only be taboo. Bashira would need to smother the flutter of butterflies until they were dead and decaying corpses adding to the bleakness of her soul.

 _'Maybe that's too heavy of a way to put it, but...'_

Bashira made her decision and plopped her plate down. "If you all don't mind, I will sit here."

The boys (minus Bakugo) seemed pleased. Jiro, though, gave Bashira a dry look.

"Maybe if you join us more often," Earphone Jack remarked, "they'll remember that I'm actually a girl, too."

Jiro's tone had been dark, and Bashira related to the other girl's blight instantly. It was almost too perfect of a scenario.

"Boys are dumb," Bashira said simply. "You can't expect much from them."

The males around them balked, but Bashira and Jiro shared brighter glances.

* * *

It was the first time that Shoto had noticed Bashira in the cafeteria, and what had drawn his attention to her was only the rowdiness of his classmates.

Shoto was seated two tables away, at a wide angle from Bashira's seat. He knew she'd gotten along with everyone pretty well at the class dinner, but watching her settle in so comfortably with the group of guys (minus Jiro) put just the slightest pinch in his stomach.

From a distance, Shoto watched as Bashira smiled. She laughed. She brushed some stray hair out of her face, bit her bottom lip, and shifted her gaze during some kind of coy banter. She was natural with that group, he surmised. She had more of a connection with them than she'd had with him.

Maybe, in another world, someone else would have been a better match for her. If everything hadn't been set in stone for them, Bashira could have lived more passionately and picked whichever man excited her the most as a partner.

Shoto got that impression from her – that Bashira was a free spirit. Her style made that relatively clear. Besides her appearance, there were hints of Bashira's taste that Shoto had noticed. That morning, for one, the music playing in their bedroom while she'd gotten ready had been punk rock rather than pop. Bashira struck Shoto as the type of girl who was hard to pin down, in every way possible. He doubted she had a "type" when it came to boys, so long as they attracted her in the moment.

Despite the fact that they were formally married, Shoto wouldn't really blame Bashira if she had interest in other guys. It was a normal teenage thing, and their circumstances could only escalate her desire to explore some forbidden fantasies. Why wouldn't she imagine – and pursue – a better life for herself? She'd already admitted to having a rebellious streak anyway.

Shoto didn't care, personally. If Bashira took things too far it wouldn't be good for either of their reputations – or their inescapable relationship – but that wasn't a huge concern to him at the moment. It got him thinking, actually, about something similar being an option. What if Bashira did catch feelings for someone else, and Shoto just let it happen?

Marriage was only a legal binding. And Shoto did respect Bashira enough to give her a freer reign than would have normally been expected.

Endeavor would be furious if he found out, of course. But the only reason Shoto's father had arranged the marriage so early was because he knew that it took time for a couple to build trust in each other. Endeavor had been surprisingly direct with that fact on the day the he'd presented the news to Shoto. Once everything had sunken in, the half-and-half prodigy had been surprised that his father had an "interpersonal development"' motive rather than a "start baking kids ASAP" drive.

Shoto didn't know the details behind his parents' newlywed days but he could be sure that they hadn't been even slightly as relaxed as his and Bashira's. It seemed like Endeavor had at least learned something from his own mistakes; Shoto and Bashira weren't anywhere near ready to be procreating.

 _Procreating._ Shoto had to scowl at the idea. He'd never had those sort of ambitions. He hadn't even achieved his own goals yet so how could he think about the next generation?

As a resolution, Shoto decided that it was fine if Bashira wanted to bat her eyes at other guys. He wouldn't be bothered by it. It might even be better for them in the long run. Bashira wouldn't be nearly as oppressed as Shoto's mother had been.

And otherwise, if nothing else, it would just be the smallest way to stuff it to Shoto's prick of a dad.

* * *

Bashira's spirits were higher than ever by the time she settled in for the night. It was still pretty early but there wasn't much else for her to do but scroll through her phone, browsing the web in bed. Usually she would have rather watched TV but there wasn't one in her and Shoto's room. Only the living room had a television, and Bashira hadn't extended her comfort zone that far yet.

Bashira didn't own many books to begin with and she'd been blowing through them faster than she'd expected. She'd read a lot when she was younger but hadn't carried the habit as she got older; the elementary level novels she possessed weren't exactly long-winded reads anymore. Truth be told she'd only picked up the practice again after moving in, since she didn't want to seem like a total Internet-obsessed idiot in front of Shoto. Bashira made a mental note to explore the school's library at some point, though. Reading more wouldn't be the worst hobby for her to adopt in her down time.

A knock came to the door. Bashira called out for Shoto to come in and he did, sparing her a look before he went to the dresser for his pajamas. Bashira returned to her phone, expecting that they would just exchange a simple "good night" before he left her alone.

"Just so you know, I won't be around this weekend," Shoto said. Bashira glanced up. Shoto's face was as cool a mask as ever. "I was going to say you'd probably be able to get permission to head home as well, but weekend trips don't seem like an option for you."

Bashira blinked. She hadn't even considered going back home yet. It would ruin the adjustment, wouldn't it?

But it seemed like Shoto had been trying to be considerate, so Bashira smiled slightly. "No, it wouldn't be worth it. Thanks for mentioning it, though."

Shoto didn't respond. His stare was a little unnerving, making Bashira look away and start picking at the convers. Shoto apparently noticed Bashira's discomfort, or just finished with whatever thought had held him up, because he turned away and put a hand on the door.

"My classmates like you," he said as he made his retreat. "You should spend more time with them while I'm away."

Shoto left then, without the two exchanging their regular pleasantries, and Bashira's mood was left to dwindle.

It was hard to tell if he was angry. Had he seen her at dinner? He'd been the one to suggest that she meet his friends in the first place. Was Shoto actually the type of guy who didn't want her having male friends when he wasn't directly involved to supervise?

Bashira's expression sank while her chagrin rose. There was something else, too. Shoto had said that she could have gotten permission to go home _as well_. Meaning, he was going to the place he considered home and leaving Bashira behind, by herself, at the school.

It was hypocritical of her, she knew, but Bashira was still somewhat hurt. She didn't particularly _want_ to be included into Shoto's circle just yet, but she still might have gone with him if he'd asked. She could have met his effort if he'd put the offer out. She'd stalked into the lion's den with all of his Hero friends already, hadn't she?

Still, Bashira couldn't really hold it against him. If she were being honest Bashira had never considered Shoto part of her family or notion of home either. They were still practically strangers. What could she expect, the Todoroki's to throw her a "Welcome to the Clan" party?

Bashira put her phone down on the bedside table and sunk into her pillow. The guys she'd sat with at dinner (minus Bakugo, and Jiro only since she was of course _a_ _girl_ ) had been easy to get along with. Bashira hadn't felt so normal since before she'd ever heard the Todoroki name. She was glad that Kirishima had been so friendly in inviting her over. And besides that, he was **cute**.

It felt nice to be around a guy who was actually interested in her, even if it he only meant it platonically.

Screw it. Maybe Bashira would hang out with them more.

After all, she'd gotten Shoto's blessing.

And how much harm could some innocent flirting do anyway?


	6. Chapter Five

The train ride took a couple of hours. Shoto wasn't the type to get bored so the journey only gave him time to think – about a lot of things.

By the time he reached his stop, though, nothing that had passed Shoto's mind en route seemed to matter anymore. He took a cab from the train station, which was another thirty minutes of travel, before he arrived at his final destination.

The house was small. Quaint. Already there were flowers blooming in the front garden.

Shoto instantly felt at ease. For one of the few times in his life he actually felt at home, albeit so suddenly, in a place he'd never even seen before.

Still, Shoto was just a smidge jittery as he walked up the cobble stones towards the front door. He gave the door two strong, solid knocks, and waited.

There was a faint flurry of footsteps inside of the house before the entrance opened. Shoto felt a rush of emotions all at once. Immense fondness – and some residual guilt – for the person who'd responded. And then, somewhat strangely, he was hit with a burst of affection for Bashira, who'd unwittingly played a huge part in making the moment possible.

The woman who'd answer the door smiled demurely, yet her intentions were monumental. Shoto gushed, feeling like a little kid again.

"Hi, Mom," Shoto said, containing the turmoil he felt inside. "It's nice to see you."

* * *

Shoto had left early on Saturday morning. Bashira had woken up as soon as she'd heard him shuffling in the next room but stayed in bed when he came in to get his clothes. As soon as he was gone, she'd felt like a little kid that had played sick whose parents had finally taken off for work.

She'd been home alone her entire first week in Musutafu, but at the time she hadn't felt completely comfortable in her surroundings or free to roam around at will. Now Bashira felt little awkwardness about jumping out of bed, leaving the blankets a mess, and wandering around in her ragged sleepwear.

Obviously Bashira was well familiar with the house on the whole, yet despite cleaning and decorating she'd never really taken the time to work the place in. After rummaging in the kitchen and making some instant oatmeal Bashira went into the sitting room, plopped herself on the couch, and turned on the TV for the very first time.

It felt a little strange, but otherwise being alone and knowing that Shoto wasn't coming back any time soon gave Bashira a bizarre sense of freedom. Maybe it was sad that such a simple thing put her at ease but Bashira didn't bother to dwell on it. She just enjoyed her morning lounging freely, eating off her lap, and relishing in the simplicity of morning sitcoms.

* * *

Shoto and his mother didn't have an easy relationship. Rei had been Shoto's pillar as a child. In light of his father's abuse, it was Rei who had always pulled him back together. It was Rei who'd reminded him of what it meant to be a Hero, and who assured him that he could be whatever kind of man he wanted to be. No matter how much Endeavor broke Shoto down just to force him back up, it was Rei who had really made him stronger all those years ago.

It had taken Midoriya and some of his classmates to jog his memory, but Shoto really did have more to thank his mother for than the country's Number One Hero. As simple of a goal as it seemed, seeing Rei outside of the hospital was a greater accomplishment than any Hero standing to Shoto.

His mother prepared tea for the two of them, and then they settled down and sipped in silence. The little bit of tension was unavoidable, but Rei did better than Shoto with smoothing it over.

"Forgive me for being so forward with this," she started, stirring the contents of her cup, "but I'll admit I've been thinking so much of that girl, Bashira. How is she, Shoto?"

Shoto wasn't exactly surprised – not by his mother thinking of his wife, or the fact that she'd brought it up so soon. The conversation was as natural as anything in their unconventional family structure.

"She's fine," Shoto relayed. "She's adjusting as well as I could hope her to." Shoto glanced up at his mother and, reading her expression, realized she would need more details to reassure her. "We keep our distance mostly, but she met my class a couple of days ago and got along with them well. I don't think anyone needs to worry about her."

Rei smiled softly, looking down and stroking the rim of her mug. "You two seem so much younger than your father and I were… I hope you take advantage of your time to grow together. I know it's all still new now, but you can't truly be happy if you pursue your own paths without considering your commitment to each other."

Shoto was reminded of Recovery Girl's advice and wondered why the matter kept coming up at all. Was he doing something wrong? Why did it seem like everyone expected him to be less impacted than Bashira? She wasn't the only one who'd been forced into something so vile.

"It wasn't a commitment either one of us made willingly," Shoto countered.

Rei's smile wasn't affected. "True, but you both still made it. For your own reasons. So the most good can only come from doing your best."

Shoto chose not to comment further and instead stewed. He wasn't the sort of person to play victim, but Shoto was vaguely irritated by the lack of sympathy that his mother – of all people – was showing him. It was only natural for her (and any woman, for that matter) to feel more connection to Bashira's plight, but it wasn't as if Shoto hadn't been equally pinned down. Why wasn't his mother angry? Had she always accepted a Quirk Marriage as an inevitable for him? Maybe Shoto was never fully meant to be his own person after all. _Everyone_ had a _plan_ for him.

Rei noticed the pinch in her youngest's brow and reached out, grasping his hand in hers.

"You're not your father, Shoto," Rei said. Shoto wasn't sure if he was just imagining it but he could only feel Rei looking into his right eye... his grey eye. "You've always known right from wrong, and you're becoming a man that I'm so proud to call my son. I wish I could have spent more of that journey with you…" Rei's grip tightened as she gathered her words, "…but I was alone, for so long, torn away from everything and everyone that had ever made me _myself._ It broke me down. As much as I loved all of you kids I just couldn't..."

Shoto watched his mother struggle. Obviously he knew that her life had been far from comfortable. His father had been symbol of savagery to their entire family. He'd just never really considered that much outside of Enji'd treatment had contributed to Rei's mental health.

"I know everything, Shoto," Rei revealed, her voice taking on a hush. "I know that you and your father arranged all of this. I know the only reason that I was released from the hospital was because you agreed to your father's demands. It's because of that... that I can't help but think of Bashira as someone precious to me, too. I know it's too much to ask of you now, but one day I hope... I hope you'll look at her as someone..."

Shoto flipped his hand around so that his palm was up, cupping Rei's. He pressed his fingers against hers, telling her that she didn't need to say any more. Even if he only had a budding idea of what she'd been getting at it was enough food for thought for him to delve into some other time, on his own. He only wanted Rei to be happy: then and always.

Rei's eyes were shining with a thin layer of unshed tears, but her smile was bigger and more genuine than ever. She let go of her mug and pushed those fingers under Shoto's, so that his hand was wrapped up in both of hers. His one fist was almost bigger than both of her hands. It triggered a surreal sort of flashback to when he'd been small enough to tuck himself into his mother's chest as he cried. He hadn't felt any comparable comfort since.

"My Shoto," Rei exhaled. "My kind, resilient Shoto. This world is a better place with a Hero like you protecting it."

Shoto's lips curled up at the corners. He didn't feel too much like a Hero yet, but as long as his mother was both free and safe, living her own life for one of the first times in her life, Shoto could breathe easier. She was his everything, and he would do anything for her.

A mother and her child's love was ultimate.

* * *

Bashira somehow spent the entire day on the couch, with snacks, watching TV she was barely even interested in and munching on too much food with too little nutritional value.

By dinner time, Bashira really didn't want to leave the house. She didn't want to get dressed, or brush her teeth, or even eat a full meal. So regardless of the spite-induced decision she'd made the day before about getting chummy with Shoto's friends, Bashira ultimately stayed home and enjoyed a lazy day to herself.

There was some part of her that felt guilty about ignoring her school work. Plus she really didn't need to be munching all day and should have exercised. U.A. students were mostly all stuck on campus so there must have been plenty of social opportunities on weekends. Yet as much as Bashira wanted to make the best of her situation, she was well aware that she wasn't a true part of the blossoming Hero world.

It wasn't like Bashira had had any plans for her future before everything had taken its bizarre turn. But back then it had still seemed like she had the world at her fingertips. She could have decided to do anything. Now she felt labeled, restricted, destined to be little beyond a celebrity's wife and the bearer of his pride-and-joys.

Quirk Marriages might not have been common but they were obviously accepted enough in the Pro Hero reality. The trouble was that had never been _Bashira's_ reality. None of what she'd been thrown into was normal to her.

Everything about Shoto's life at U.A. was surreal. Back home Bashira had classmates she'd known further back than her memory even went, but she still didn't consider any of them real confidants. Shoto had only known his class a couple of years and it seemed like he held them all at the highest regard. Maybe that made sense for Heroes, though; it could literally mean life or death for them to have each other's backs implicitly.

Bashira's grandparents were the most important people to her. They'd had their ups and downs, but even a dysfunctional family was still family.

With that thought, by Sunday morning, it was Bashira's parents who she most wanted to speak to. Maybe her dad first? He'd be the more likely of the two to answer his phone. Did he even know where she was? What had happened?

Bashira only had a fleeting thought of her mom. She decided against having any kind of heart-to-heart with the other woman almost instantly.

From her cocooned positon on the couch, Bashira fished out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, found her dad's name, but hooked her finger over the edge of her case cover, hesitating.

What if no one _had_ told him what had happened to her? He'd be hurt, best case. Angry worst case.

But if he did know, wouldn't he have reached out to her?

Why hadn't _anyone_ reached out to her?

Bashira tried not to fall into a pit of self-pity. She hadn't told any of her friends back home the truth about why she was moving. And she'd hardly thought it was her place to tell her mom and dad what her grandparents had decided to do with her.

Her grandparents should have been the ones to tell her parents. Maybe they had told her mom, their daughter, and her mom just hadn't cared enough to react. Maybe they just hadn't told her dad, who they still blamed for tainting their _precious heiress_.

Bashira's thumb moved to hover over he dad's name. Something held her back from pressing it, still.

In the midst of her grappling thoughts, a knock came to the door. Bashira didn't register it right away until a second round of pounding. Then she instinctively glanced to the nearest clock – how was it already 11:00 AM?! – before she flung herself off the couch and made for the entry way.

It was during the short walk to the door that Bashira tried to flatten out her PJ's, make a mental tally of where and how much rubbish she'd left lying around, and hope beyond hope that whoever was knocking at the door was someone she didn't know who didn't want to come in.

No such luck, as usual. It was half of the girls from Class 3-A.


	7. Chapter Six

Yaoyorozu, Ashido, Asui, and Uraraku were standing at Bashira's doorstep.

"Sorry that we're surprising you like this," Ururaka started, playing with the straps of an over-the-shoulder bag she was wearing, "but some of us got to talking. We know Todoroki is on leave this weekend and we hadn't seen you around anywhere, so we just wanted to check in."

Bashira, really and thoroughly, didn't know how to react. For what was probably an awkward amount of time she merely stood inside the threshold and stared at her guests.

Ashido, either ignoring of not noticing the tension, raised an energetic fist into the air. "Yeah! Plus, we've been super curious about this special living arrangement you guys swindled out of the school. It must be so cool to basically have your own whole house on campus, right?"

Bashira still couldn't bring herself to respond, so Yaoyorozu used the lapse to step forward.

"Excuse us for intruding," the class rep said with a brief bow, "but as Uraraka said, we've all been interested in getting to know you and especially wanted to make sure that you were okay today."

Bashira was only twice as dumbfounded. Why would they be worried about her? And worried enough to come over without warning? It wasn't like she would be in any serious trouble.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Bashira's lips were twisting up into a customer service type of smile. As soon as she felt the movement on her face she instinctively came up with a monologue, on the fly.

"That's outrageously generous of you," Bashira said. "I've been fine but definitely taking my own kind of vacation. The house is pretty much a mess right now so it might not be the best thing to walk into."

"Don't worry," Ashido proclaimed with a wink. "We're all single gals. We won't judge you on this one visit."

Bashira's smile thinned, but she didn't have much of a choice but to step aside and let the other girls in.

Ashido and Asui swept past Bashira without much hesitation, but Uraraka made sure to give Bashira a too-deep bow. Yaoyorozu stilled just inside of the threshold, waiting for Bashira to close the door.

"You really don't need to be self-conscious," the ebony-haired lady said. "We all realize this is a new arrangement for you two. It's understandable that you're still settling in and weren't expecting any company."

Bashira took two seconds to examine Yaoyorozu. She got the same vibe as the last time she'd tried to label the girl: Yaoyorozu was genuinely kind and selfless – somewhat annoyingly so. If you didn't bother to really look into Yaoyorozu's eyes it'd be easy to assume she only spoke condescendingly out of trained manners, but the young herione was honestly as innocent as a kitten.

 _Despite being built like a shounen model_.

It was around that moment when Bashira re-realized that she was wearing pajama bottoms she'd owned since middle school and a ragged tank she'd gotten from some festival for free. The Hero Course girls were all dressed casually themselves but they at least looked like they had a life and purpose to get dressed for that day.

"You guys can look around if you want," Bashira found herself saying. "If you don't mind fending for yourselves for a few, I'm gonna go get myself cleaned up."

Bashira sent the girls a weird grimace (she'd been trying to grin but could _feel_ how gawky it'd been) and didn't even wait for them to agree before she shuffled off towards the bedroom. It was a small enough place – the girls couldn't get into too much trouble without her anyway.

Of course her favorite leggings were dirty. Bashira threw on a pair of jeans instead. (Or, rather, she sucked herself into them. They used to be her most comfortable pair so how had they gotten more snug when she _hadn't_ been eating as much as usual?). She swiped on some deodorant, slipped on a bra, and pulled a flowy top over her head. Bashira only briefly swept her hair up into a messy bun and skipped a trip to the bathroom all together. Brushing her teeth would have to wait. She'd just have to try not to stand too close to anyone or breathe directly towards them.

By the time Bashira made it to the living room, where she heard voices, Ashido and Asui were examining every piece of furniture and trinket in the room. Uraraka was perched at the end of a chair, her attention transfixed on the TV. Yaoyorozu hovered to the side, obviously out-of-place.

"So," Bashira started, announcing her return but not quite sure what to say, "what do you think?"

There was a deliberate pause.

"You watch _Casual Soul Realm Assault Trip_ too, Kobayashi?" Uraraka asked, her eyes bright. "My parents and I used to watch Don Kanonji-San together all the time. They'd sometimes try to creep me out by pretending to be ghosts."

' _That sounds cruel_ ,' Bashira thought. ' _And that's all she has to say?_ '

"Honestly the vibe in here isn't very surprising, given Todoroki's taste," Asui put forth. "He's a simplistic kind of guy. But I'm curious as to why there aren't more personal touches from you, Kobayashi. Do you like this kind of traditional style too?"

Bashira blinked, a little stunned by Asui's bluntness, before shrugging. "It doesn't bother me," was the best thing she could say. "I guess I don't have a loud decorative voice either."

"Well, if you ask me, you two could definitely use some excitement around here," Ashido proclaimed. "Some more color, or at least a few cool art pieces or something. This doesn't look like the home of two hip teenagers."

"I think it's lovely, Kobayashi," Yaoyorozu rushed to add in. "It's such a cozy place for you and Todoroki to start building your life together."

More than Asui and Ashido's criticism, it was Yaoyorozu's sweeter gesture that put a sour taste on Bashira's tongue.

"Speaking of that," Uraraka said, lurching forward to grab the bag she'd come in with, "we brought you house-warming presents!"

Bashira blanched. Despite the Class 3-A girls being so different individually they all succeeded in keeping her perpetually guarded, yet still so habitually caught _off_ guard.

"Sorry some of them aren't wrapped," Uraraka continued, pulling items out of the sack. "The idea was a little last minute, so we didn't have time to present everything well."

Bashira couldn't bring herself to answer as she eyed everything that Uraraka was placing on the coffee table. There was what looked like a variety of tea; a lone box wrapped in authentic-looking silk; a small basket of comfort foods, face masks, and chocolate; a few books; and a decently sized stack of either CDs or DVDs, wrapped up in a ribbon.

"We asked Todoroki what you liked," Uraraka went on, "but you know how he is. We got some bits and pieces but had to try to pin your taste mostly by ourselves."

Embarrassingly, Bashira kept falling into a stunned state as soon as she thought she was getting a hold of herself. She knew that she might come off as rude for being so quiet all day. But as if the unannounced arrival wasn't enough to take, the gifts were just another curveball tossed her way that she hadn't built herself up to handle.

Yaoyorozu stepped in. "Ashido and Jiro helped with the media," the girl said, gesturing to the CDs and DVDs, "while some of the boys chipped in with some edible and luxury items."

"Yeah," Mina cheered, shoving a thumbs-up forward. "The boys mostly supplied sweets and stuff. But Jiro and I were the brains behind the movies and music we picked."

"We all shared ideas though, of course," Uraraka continued. "I think it was Iida who picked out a few books, and Deku looked up some beneficial teas."

' _Deku?_ ' Bashira thought. It was hard to keep track of everyone, but that name seemed unfamiliar.

"We all chipped in," Asui summed up, tapping her finger to her lips. "I believe Yaoyorozu was the one to supply the one wrapped gift, though."

"I didn't mean to show off," the taller girl immediately clarified, holding her hands up in defense. "I only asked my mother to send me some cloth. I just hope you like the china."

Bashira could still only blink. She hadn't even touched anything but now knew the extent of what gifts were in front of her.

Why were these people doing anything for her?

Or was it only for Todoroki?

"I…" Bashira started. Her mind was reeling. Was Shoto really so popular? Or was he just powerful? Did anyone even care about her or was it just her relationship to him, because he was Endeavor's son?

Bashira coughed and turned away briefly. She needed that one moment to pull a face.

"This is all too much," Bashira eventually said. "But I appreciate the gesture."

It was too much. Bashira was humbled, but there was some part of her that still felt patronized. She wasn't completely sure of everyone's intentions and couldn't help but feel like these other kids were babying her because of her situation.

They were _all_ still kids, weren't they?

Uraraka, ever the most surprisingly perceptive of the bunch, popped up from her seat.

"This is all probably overwhelming, huh?" the shorter girl said. "That's why we didn't want to bring too many people over. We don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable."

Uraraka's words made Bashira _more_ uncomfortable. Was Bashira supposed to lie and say that it was all fine? Or be honest and say "yes, please go away"?

There was really no good answer.

The other girl read Bashira's hesitance as a response.

"We're really sorry to have barged in like this," Uraraka said. She inched backwards and bowed. "It was pretty presumptuous of us."

Yaoyorozu and Asui were paying enough attention to grasp the hint as well, but Asui needed to fling her tongue out – holy _cow_ was her tongue _long_ – and wrap it around Ashido's bicep to tug the pinky girl towards them. The soon-to-be-Heroes didn't leave the room right away, but Bashira still felt rushed and panicked as they made to retreat.

"I don't mean to be-" Bashira started, reaching up to tug at her bun. "I mean, I'm not ungrateful. This just isn't anything I was planning for, y'know? It's all been…" Bashira hesitated, thinking briefly that she'd already said too much, or maybe been too vague, before shoving both of those notions away and speaking from her gut. "…Everything's been tough lately."

Bashira kept playing with her hair, her eye cast off to the side. She gave it a few beats before she sucked it up and glanced back at the girls. They were all giving her their own form of shimmery, sympathetic eyes.

"It's quite all right, Kobayashi," Yaoyorozu said, her hands clasped before her. "None of us can say we know how you feel, but we're all willing to lend a hand where we can."

Bashira sent Yaoyorozu a half-smile, feeling semi eased but still mostly awkward. A lock of hair had already come loose from her bun after the assault from her fingers, so Bashira abandoned the bun and started twirling that one strand.

The room was left at a standstill, and Bashira wasn't sure how she wanted to end it. Clearly the decision was in her hands. Did she let the girls go, or did she face her fears and move forward?

"You guys can feel free to stay for a while," Bashira decided, looking away again and rubbing underneath her eye with one hand. "You took the trouble of coming here in the first place, so you might as well stay a while. I have all these movies and junk food now anyway, so…"

Uraraka and Yaoyorozu sent her bright but still compassionate smiles. Asui's expression was similarly kindly, and Ashido full-out leaped into the air.

"Wooh! Day-Time Girls' Night!"

* * *

Truthfully, Bashira had stayed on edge that entire day. The girls had all decided on a movie to watch, made some popcorn, covered it in chocolate (for whatever reason) and settled down for the afternoon.

Bashira didn't regret spending her Sunday that way, but she couldn't bring herself to loosen up completely with everyone. It might have just been the environment, or the fact that she hadn't been able to mentally build herself up for the interaction ahead of time.

Still, it had all gone well enough. The girls realized that Bashira wasn't completely invested in the bonding experience and left after a few hours, claiming they had homework left to finish. It was bittersweet for Bashira to see them go – but more so sweet.

Bashira cleaned up what little mess they'd made, along with the mess she'd made on her own before she'd had any company to blame, before resuming her sprawled-out posture on the couch.

It was in that position where Shoto found her, right around dark.

Bashira had been wondering when Shoto would be getting back. When she heard the door open her heart had stopped and anxiety clogged her throat. She knew it had to be him, and that she shouldn't be so reactive, but it was still a reflex.

Since she was already established on the couch Bashira just stayed put, pretending to be immersed in the TV show she was watching and _not_ analyzing every one of Shoto's footsteps as he made his way to her. She only looked over once he'd stopped in the doorway.

"Hey," Shoto was the first to say.

"Hey," Bashira echoed. One inhale, one exhale. "How was your weekend?"

The question was small talk, something she'd only said because it was the obvious thing to ask, but Bashira still felt a pang of hurt after it left her. Not that Shoto would care, but Bashira _did_ know where he'd gone all weekend. Not that Shoto had bothered to tell her directly, but he _did_ get to spend time with his family while he left her alone.

"Fine," Shoto answered simply. "How was yours?"

Small talk again. Bashira only barely smirked. "Fine."

Bashira knew her response was a little mocking, and the longer Shoto remained in the room, just staring at her, the more unsettled she felt.

"Some of your class stopped by," Bashira admitted, shifting slightly in her discomfort. "They said they wanted to check in. Brought a few things over." Bashira gestured to the gifts that were still piled on the table in front of her.

Shoto eyed the items and nodded, not seeming surprised. "They brought it up to me. I figured it would happen sooner or later." Shoto's gaze drifted from the pile to Bashira, not missing a single beat before he locked eyes with her. "Did you like it?'

Basahira was momentarily stumped. Somewhere in the background, where her mind was still working, she tried to make out whether Shoto was referencing more towards his friends hanging out or the gifts alone. Did she like any of it? Was she supposed to like _anything_ anymore?

"Yeah," Bashira answered, because there was no way that she could say "no". "Thanks for putting them up to it."

"I didn't exactly," Shoto said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "They asked and I gave my opinion is all."

Basahira accepted his denial with a nod of her own. "Still, they said you had a few ideas about what I might like," she made it a point to catch Shoto's two-toned eyes, "so thanks for paying a little attention, at least."

It was a stretch, Bashira knew. Uraraka had unwittingly confessed that Shoto didn't know much about Bashira. It didn't necessarily bother her, because she probably knew even less about Shoto. Maybe she was lucky that she didn't have to try to explain her husband to anyone in the way that people kept trying to pry into Shoto about her, apparently.

Shoto only nodded again. There might have been a change in his expression but it was too subtle for Bashira to catch for sure.

There was a small paused before Shoto piped up.

"I'm heading to bed," the teen said, pushing off of the wall. "Goodnight."

Bashira deadpanned. "'Night."

Shoto retreated, and Bashira watched him go. Long after he left, Bashira mulled over their interaction. She thought about all of their interactions, actually. They really hadn't had a genuine, comfortable conversation. Not in all the time that they'd known each other; not in all of the time that they'd been married.

If there was any hope of keeping them both sane, it was probably time to change that.

* * *

 **(A/N)**

 ** _Bleach_ reference? Anyone? Do you kids even consider _Bleach_ a thing anymore? O_O**


	8. Chapter Seven

Shoto and Bashira didn't normally walk to class together. They left the house together sometimes, sure, but Bashira naturally moved at a quicker pace than Shoto and always ended up leading him by a few meters. And since Shoto didn't seem to care, she would pull ahead of him and glance back once they were close to campus to exchange a nod of goodbye before they both went their separate ways.

Other mornings Shoto left by himself early. Bashira assumed it was because he had an errand to run or some extra work to do. He didn't seem like the type to shirk or make excuses just to avoid her – as opposed to the way she'd gotten used to hiding from him.

Just in case Monday was one of those days when Shoto planned on getting a head start, Bashira set her alarm an hour before she would have otherwise gotten up. In anticipation, she was ready way too early and ended up tip-toeing out of the bedroom and around their living space, cleaning up the last of the mess she'd made over the weekend.

Shoto came out of his room around his normal time and raised a brow at Bashira: a fully dressed and prepped Bashira who'd decided 7:00 AM was the time to dust and sanitize all of their furniture.

"Sorry if I woke you or interrupted anything," Bashira said, straightening up and putting her arms behind her back. Shoto wasn't sure if it was so she could fiddle with her clothes or her fingers (as she often did, he'd noticed) or to try to hide the rag she'd been holding, as if he'd forget what a strange thing she'd been doing. "I couldn't sleep."

Shoto didn't believe her excuse for a second but he ultimately wasn't concerned about whatever Bashira was covering up. He only told her not to worry and went on with his usual routine. He slowly became aware, however, that Bashira seemed to be hovering and trying to keep a tab on him. Her out-of-character antics continued as the morning went on and the two left the house, when she walked at an obviously delayed pace beside him.

"Hey…" Bashira put forth half way through their trek. Shoto glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He was almost amused by the fact that her lips stayed parted awkwardly. Unbeknownst to him, the pause was because she literally just didn't know what to call him. "Shoto" felt too intimate. But was "Todoroki" too formal?

Bashira fake-coughed into her shoulder. Shoto was already paying attention to her anyway so why even address him at all? "…I just wanted to say…"

Bashira stalled again. Damn it. Not matter how many times she'd rehearsed what she wanted to say she was still sounding too lame. Too submissive.

Bashira cleared her throat – for real – and straightened up. "I want to tell you that I know you've been looking out for me, in your own way. And I appreciate it. But I think we'll only really get along if we face each other more head on, you know?" The dark haired girl paused to let the bulk of what she said sink in. Was it too much to dump all at once? It sounded like a lot, especially when she hadn't even taken a breath in between. "I don't care if you're blunt with me. I just think we need to talk to each other more."

Shoto kept his gaze leveled, still staring at ahead, as he mulled over the proposal. He was both impressed and surprised but maybe he shouldn't have been. Bashira had never exactly struck him as the meek type.

"Okay," Shoto said. "It seems like you may be interested in knowing something in particular though, to be bringing this up now. Do you want to be honest about that?"

Bashira's cheeks immediately flushed and she shot Shoto a brief glare. The two kept strolling for a few beats, Shoto unbothered and Bashira processing.

"You went to see your family over the weekend, right?" the girl said. "Not that I mean to be snippy, but could you be more straight-forward with that kind of thing in the future? Even if you don't want me involved, I'd appreciate at least knowing where you are. Just in case."

Shoto continued to regard his wife. "Do you want to be involved?"

Bashira reeled back, just slightly. "I didn't mean that. I just want us to be more open. Whether we like it or not we are a core part of each other's' lives now. It won't do either of us any good to keep distancing ourselves."

There were a number of remarks Shoto could have made, ranging from practical to downright snarky. But he chose to refrain. Instead he considered Bashira's perspective and how much effort it must have taken her to approach him about her point. It really wasn't asking too much for them to get closer, but was it really necessary?

Shoto faced forward again. "I went to see my mother this weekend," he confessed, his tone a little clipped. "She was recently released from the hospital."

From his peripheral, Shoto tried to gage Bashira's reaction.

"Oh," Bashira murmured. "Was she hurt? Is she okay?"

Shoto debated his answer. The only person he'd ever told about his childhood was Midoriya, and that was mostly just because he'd been riled up during their first Sports Festival.

"She was in the hospital for a long time, ever since I was little," Shoto responded. "My dad only released her recently."

This time, Shoto deliberately didn't try to read Bashira. He only continued to walk with her, wondering if she'd caught on to the implication. If he had to judge by the lapse before her response she was at least mulling over what he'd said. His answer had been vague but he'd given her enough of a clue to put the pieces together. Would she?

"My mom was in the hospital for a while too," Bashira eventually said. Shoto shot her a look. That was one thing he hadn't expected to come out of her. "I used to hate visiting her. I never actually wanted to see her, but my grandparents made me."

There was something about her tone, and even her expression, that Shoto realized was different from before. She'd always been guarded but something about her had turned outright detached when she brought up her parents.

It was ironic, really, that Bashira had started the conversation out of a desire to connect the two of them more. Yet both of them were only speaking in half-confessions, semi-riddles that still left gaping lines in between to decipher. Shoto didn't find himself minding too much, though. Normally he could pin his lack of curiosity to the fact that he genuinely just didn't overly care about most others' pasts and personal problems. It didn't feel quite the same with Bashira but there was still a certain amount of apathy on his part.

"With any luck," Shoto said, "my dad will get himself torn apart some time soon. Then we can both move on with our lives without him interfering."

Bashira perked up a bit, tossing a raised eyebrow at Shoto. "Do you hate him that much?"

Shoto scoffed but couldn't bring himself to give a solid answer. Instead, he replied with his own arched brow. "Do you not? We're only here like this because of him."

Bashira's lips pursed. "I only met him that day at the courthouse, and he didn't even look to me. He was intimidating. I thought it was because he's so _huge_ , plus being the Number One Hero and all. But if his own son thinks so little of him, maybe Endeavor just isn't someone who deserves to be respected."

With his brow now pinching, Shoto leered at Bashira. Her words came out too easily and they hit him the wrong way. "You've barely even met him but decided who he was so quickly, just because of one thing that I said?"

Bashira frowned, suddenly looking a little irked as well. "Well, one second _you're_ saying that you hope the guy gets himself killed – now you're snapping at me for judging him? Which one is it?"

"…It's more complicated than that."

A small snort came from Bashira. "Obviously. That Bakugo kid really has it right when he calls you 'Icy-Hot', huh?"

It was strange, but there was some tiny corner, somewhere near the size of his pinky toe nail, where Shoto felt self-conscious. It was one thing for him to open up with his classmates – his friends and comrades who all fought and encouraged and suffered together – and it was another to feel exposed to a girl he hadn't really planned on developing any kind of serious relationship with at all.

Talking to Bashira was getting irritating, honestly. Would in only be worse if they made forcing conversations a habit?

Almost like she knew what he was thinking, Bashira turned to Shoto sent him a softer smirk. "What I _meant_ was that I trust you," she declared. "You have way too many friends to be a bad person, or a shitty judge of character."

And just like that, the annoyance that had tinged Shoto's mood vanished. He watched Bashira with a bland expression as the two kept walking. Bashira turned ahead, keeping her gaze determinedly forward, her features loose.

He'd never noticed it much before, but were a lot of girls so ambiguous?

Shoto harrumphed to himself and looked straight again. They were almost on campus.

"My mother asked about you," the boy said after a few more beats. He tried not to focus too much on the words. It was just something he felt compelled to tell Bashira in that moment. "She's worried about you feeling isolated and lonely."

Even though he didn't look over, Shoto somehow knew that Bashira was smiling. He could hear it in her voice when she responded.

"That's nice of her, but you can tell her that I'm doing just fine."

The two had reached the main path leading to their respective buildings by then. They stopped and turned to half face each other.

Bashira sent Shoto another one of her one-sided, uneven smiles, then reached out unexpectedly to bop him in the arm with her fist.

"You can tell your mom that you're taking care of me just fine."

With that Bashira turned away, throwing up a hand as a parting wave. Shoto was momentarily rooted where he stood.

He frowned after her retreating back.

* * *

"Excuse me, Kobayashi-san?"

Bashira lifted her eyes to the girl in front of her. Lunch break had only begun thirty seconds ago, and Bashira hadn't even finished packing up her things when she was confronted by a classmate. The girl had a round, non-threatening looking face, but Bashira couldn't help but tense up.

This girl leaned forward in a half bow, grinning congenially. "I'm sorry that I haven't introduced myself before, but my name's Wakako Ito. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Wakako had chestnut brown hair that curled a little oddly around her shoulders, and her eyes were a striking orange. Despite the girl's friendliness, Bashira wasn't settled. Nice to "finally" meet her, huh? Bashira had been going to classes for over a week; what did Wakako want from her all of a sudden?

Wakako caught up to the fact that Bashira hadn't responded and was wearing a soldier-like expression.

"Awe," the girl started, straightening up and rubbing her neck sheepishly. "I don't mean to be too forward, but some of us have been wondering. We've seen you walking with Shoto Todoroki a few times. And you've eaten with some of the 1-A Hero Course students. So… what exactly is your connection to them?"

There it was. Credit had to be given to for Wakako being an honest one, at least. She definitely didn't bother beating around the bush when it was obvious that Bashira wouldn't be humored by it.

Bashira regarded Wakako coolly. Inside, her thoughts were jumbled. People had started taking notice of her habits, then? They'd _noticed_ her. Was that a "whatever" thing or would it end up being a huge pain in the ass?

"Todoroki and I live in the same building is all," Bashira fabricated. "We're related. Distantly."

Wakako blinked in an exaggerated kind of way. "Wow, really? A few people had guessed something that. Then that means you know the Hero Endeavor too, don't you?!" The brunette had steadily lurched forward over Bashira's desk in excitement.

Bashira pulled back. On an impulse, or maybe even instinct, she turned to take in the rest of the room. Half of the kids in her class had left already to get their food elsewhere but a good number of them were still hanging around. There were a few minding their own business and eating quietly. One larger group in the corner was trying a little too hard to be casual, though.

One of the boys met Bashira's eye when he glanced over. He visibly jolted and turned away, leaning into the person next to him as if for cover.

The morning had started off pretty well. Bashira had been in a good mood. She and Shoto had covered some ground. She thought that they'd gotten one step closer to understanding each other and was happy about it.

Now these kids in her class were treating her life like it was a game, apparently. That group in the corner must have been the main gambling ring. Bashira wondered how long they'd been talking about her. Starting rumors. Was there actually money on the table? _"200 Yen says she's a secret love child,"_ or _"Whoever scores the lowest on the next assignment has to be the one to ask her!"_

Maybe she was just being paranoid. But she'd obviously been a matter of interest to the others.

Problem was that Wakako was the only person to ever introduce herself, and that bothered Bashira.

 _A Lot_.

Something snapped. There was some fraction of Bashira's mind that knew it was irrational, and a phantom voice whispered for her to calm down. There really wasn't any reason for her to get upset so quickly. There was no reason for her to be angry.

She just was.

Bashira picked up her pace and stuffed the last of her things into her bag. "I don't know Endeavor," she said, standing. "I mean nothing to him, and next to nothing to Todoroki. So you can all just go back to ignoring me, alright?"

She was being rude and brash, and maybe a little unfair, but Bashira really didn't care. She just slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked out, thoroughly miffed.

That afternoon, Bashira didn't return to class.

And that night, a conflicted Shoto waited for her to return home.


	9. Chapter Eight

Bashira didn't intend to skip class. She'd only wanted to get away – far away – during lunch break.

When the warning bell came, she'd ignored it. Bashira figured she could stand to stay put for a few more minutes and get her head in a better place. But then the final bell rang, and at least five more minutes passed afterwards. By that point she'd considered herself a lost cause as far as going back to class went.

Bashira remained in her hiding spot instead: behind a building she didn't know very well, sprawled out in the grass next to a wall where there weren't any windows. Even when her mood was reeling it was calming to be in a that hidden, quiet place. She revisited the interaction with her classmate plenty of times and dutifully acknowledged that she was in the wrong for reacting so badly. Yet at the same time no matter how much she went over it, it still made her angry. Such an insignificant thing got her blood boiling. Stupid, childish, irrational tears stung in her eyes.

At some hour, after so much time had passed, Bashira reminded herself that she was only wasting the opportunity she'd been given by wallowing. Again.

Even if getting to her next lesson was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, Bashira could still do something proactive.

Bashira dragged herself up from the ground and trudged towards the gym.

Maybe her teenage angst could at least be some good physical fuel.

* * *

It was close to three hours later when Bashira called it quits. The gym had been pretty quiet during regular class hours but she'd noticed the influx of students pretty easily and figured it was mid-afternoon by then.

Bashira kept at it, though, for a little longer. Adrenaline was a fickle thing and she wasn't about to waste it during the rare occasion that she actually had it.

Sometime around 16:00 Bashira finally did retire from the fitness ring and retreated to the women's locker room. She'd felt great. She probably hadn't ever had such an extended training session in her whole life. And exercise induced endorphins anyway, didn't it? She should definitely try to forget about how horrible working out was sometimes and focus more on how high it'd made her that day, once she'd pushed herself far enough.

Trouble was once Bashira had showered, changed, and packed up for her way home, all of those amazing chemicals were rapidly receding. It was only a few minutes after she'd started making her way off campus that Bashira's body started failing. She felt heavy, unsteady, and so, _so_ tired. The last half of the way home was covered almost completely in a daze, as if she were drunk and only barely functioning.

Bashira remembered dragging her feet into the dwelling and dumping her bag on the floor. She'd reactively started heading toward her room, but Shoto was sitting at the dining table like he was actually waiting for her… which was about as expected as having the Witch of the West as a dinner guest.

"Oh. Hey." It took almost every ounce of energy Bashira had left to meet Shoto's eyes and keep her gaze from spinning. Shoto didn't say anything right away. He was staring at her, maybe even glaring at her. It was about as much interest than he'd ever directed at her before.

"Have you been training?" Shoto asked the pause. It was hardly a question. He'd taken in her freshly washed hair, still flushed cheeks, and obviously fatigued stance. It didn't take a genius.

To Bashira's nod, Shoto scowled. "You over did it."

Bashira couldn't bring herself to answer. She only stood where her feet had stopped, willing herself not to waver in her stance.

Shoto slid his chair back and brought himself to his feet. He made his way to Bashira, strolling languidly.

"You won't even make it to bed by the looks of it," he said as her approached her. Bashira didn't pay him much attention at first, but when Shoto's hand clasped over her wrist her sense jolted her into the moment. "Don't make it worse," was all Shoto said as he bent his knees slightly, poising to lift her.

It was half an involuntary reaction and half obedience when Bashira's legs buckled. She fell back into Shoto's arms, wincing as if she was expecting to be dropped, and then lost her breath when Shoto plucked her up like she was nothing.

Bridal style. He was holding her bridal style.

' _Does he even realize the implication here?'_

Bashira gawked at Shoto, her expression probably something stupid. She was looking at his right side, the silver and grey side, which was the one that she preferred anyway. She'd noticed the scar on his left side, of course, but it was more the stark contrast between the red of his hair (and scar) and the green of that eye that didn't seem to fit him. His left side was more approachable, more reflective of his personality: soft, but all the same distant and stormy.

Shoto didn't have to carry her far. Bashira only really had the chance to blink a couple of times before she was being placed at the end of her bed. Shoto took a few steps back once she was settled.

"Do you need water?" he asked her. "You should make sure you're hydrated."

Bashira nodded, more as a brainless instinct than anything, and watched Shoto leave the room. She was still for a moment, her feelings a mess, before she got some of her wits about her and crawled back to lie in bed fully. Her limbs were both lead-like and like a ragdolls, somehow. She'd probably only get up again if she had to pee so bad that her bladder hurt more than her legs did.

Shoto returned, carrying a large glass of water and a granola bar.

"There isn't much food here," Shoto said, "but you should eat something, too."

Bashira murmured her thanks when Shoto placed everything down on the table next to her. She knew she should dig in but felt a little self-conscious with Shoto analyzing her.

"I'm heading out to dinner," Shoto decided after another brief pause. "Get some rest. I'll bring back something more substantial for you." Bashira melted for the briefest moment until Shoto added, "Don't be so reckless next time. Know your limits."

Suddenly, she felt more patronized than cared about.

Whether or not Shoto noticed Bashira's shift, he shifted his weight and went on. "You got a letter, by the way. I left it out on the table."

Bashira knew that Shoto didn't have any austere intention when he announced the mail, but the news made her blood freeze regardless. Whatever little moment they'd almost had became nothing; it was the first time in almost three weeks that anyone from her old life had reached out to her.

Maybe it was junk mail. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? It wasn't like Bashira had given her address to anyone beside her grandparents, or told any of her friends the exact details of her sudden relocation. Who was she to suddenly be hoping anyone felt strongly enough to go digging and find her? Only credit card and magazine companies were that dedicated.

Despite the fact that Bashira hadn't responded, Shoto pivoted and made for the door. "See you."

Bashira didn't move, waiting until she heard the front door open and close before she un-tensed and semi-relaxed into her pillow. She was torn between keeping put to let her body recuperate and jumping up while she had the impulse to check whatever was on the table.

While caught up in the debate, she somehow only fell asleep.

* * *

Bashira wasn't sure what had woken her at first, but after only a second of coming-to she stiffened and bolted up well before her mind could connect the dots. She blinked a half dozen times, her eyes struggling to adjust even though the only light was coming from outside of the room. The figure next to her had to have been Shoto – who else would be in her room? – but she still had to force herself to calm down.

Shoto didn't acknowledge Bashira's reaction. "I brought you some udon and spicy stir-fry. You like hot things, don't you?"

Bashira's thought were still jumbled, mainly from sleep, but some corner of her mind was wondering if Shoto had been watching her, taking notice of her habits and preferences.

"Yeah," Bashira breathed. "I like hot things."

Once he was sure that Bashira was awake and in-the-moment, Shoto switched on the lamp on the side of the bed. Her take-out container was on the side table, a napkin and utensils folded on top. "I'll get you more water," he said. The glass from earlier was still full, untouched, but a cold refill would be more enticing.

Bashira stared blankly ahead as Shoto went through his motions. It was strange to have Shoto waiting on her but Bashira tried not to think too much into it. He probably looked at her as more of a duty than anything. It wasn't about actual concern. It wasn't like he had particular feelings towards her.

Shoto came back with a fresh glass of water – and an envelope. He placed the water down first, then tilted the letter so that the address side faced him.

"I have to admit I'm curious about your mail, too," Shoto said. He waited a beat before holding the mail out to Bashira. "The return address is my family's compound. It's from my sister."

Bashira was stunned but she reached out to take the letter from Shoto. The return address didn't mean much to her at first, but it was Bashira's name as the addressee, and Fuyumi Todoroki as the returnee.

' _So he has a sister'_ Bashira thought. The revelation was a reminder that Bashira really didn't know much of anything about Shoto. Was Fuyumi younger or older? Were there any other siblings? What was their relationship like? Were they all Heroes too?

There were a million questions that came up just seeing Fuyumi's name and the easiest way to get answers was opening the letter and reading what the other girl had to say.

Bashira glanced up at Shoto, who didn't show any signs that he intended on leaving, then flipped the envelope around to tear it open, almost too carefully. She pulled the page out and unfolded it.

 _Bashira,_

 _This is weird, isn't it? We're family now but I don't know when I'll meet you. Our house has always been full of boys, so I hope that we'll see each other soon. It will be nice to have a sister to talk to._

 _I went to visit my mother recently and she had a lot to say about you. I know it's all probably overwhelming, but it may comfort you to know that we all care about you. My mother, me, and even Shoto. He may not show it all that obviously, but my little brother is a good man. I'm sure you've noticed by now. You don't need to worry about him. He's on your side. We all are._

 _To be honest I don't really know what to say. I just wanted to write to you. I hope things are well. I know U.A. is pretty strict now but maybe the next break you have off with Shoto, the two of you could visit together? I promise it won't be awkward! You're always welcome here._

 _All the best,_

 _Fuyumi_

Even when Bashira finished reading she didn't take her eyes off of the page. It was a simple note, and while Bashira kept her feelings dulled and numb to its meaning at first, she felt herself getting more emotional as it all sunk in.

This girl, her new sister-in-law whom she'd never even known existed, wrote to her just for the sake of writing to her. But her family, her own flesh and blood, was still keeping mum.

Bashira noticed that she'd started gripping the paper more tightly than she should have and did her best to loosen up. She looked at Shoto again, who was waiting patiently to hear what she had to say about the correspondence.

Shoto was handsome. It wasn't the first time that Bashira had thought it. When they'd met, as soon as he'd walked into the room, Bashira had been both glad and angry that he wasn't some troll-ish gnome. It made it harder to resent him, with him being so pretty.

Then he'd also been cordial and accommodating. Shoto gave Bashira plenty of space but still paid attention from a distance, and he listened when she had something to say. He hadn't wanted the marriage any more than she had but he hadn't treated her any less because of it. His friends care so much about him that they'd started caring about her. His family cared enough about him to start caring about her.

With the way things had ended up, if it weren't for Shoto being the one she'd married, Bashira wouldn't have anything or anyone. She'd never realized how fickle her relationships with other people had been compared to the bonds that Shoto had within his world.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Bashira seemed to shrink in front of Shoto. Her expression sunk and grew more shadowed.

"It's nothing," Bashira said. Her tone was steady despite the air around her. "Your sister just wanted to introduce herself. She said we should both visit, when we get that chance."

Bashira wasn't looking at Shoto anymore – she was staring straight down at the covers – so it was hard for Shoto to gage her.

"And what about you?" Shoto questioned, his head tilting a fraction. "Would you want to do that?"

He didn't get an answer very quickly. Bashira didn't respond at all, at first. She was either ignoring him entirely or seriously contemplating.

"Yeah." It was a simple but decisive word. "I think I might like that."

Shoto knew he was missing something; he knew he didn't understand whatever gears were turning inside of Bashira's brain, but he simultaneously accepted and dismissed the notion in that moment. He never really knew what she was thinking and probably never would. "Okay," he said instead, "then we'll do that."

Bashira couldn't help but let her lips quirk up.

Against her better sense, she liked the sound of "we".


	10. Chapter Nine

Classes passed uneventfully the next day. Bashira thought about finding that girl – Wakako or whatever – but ultimately she didn't care enough to pursue giving an apology. Bashira didn't even bother looking for the other girl's weird, twirled brown hair among the heads in class. She only put effort into paying attention to the lesson, which took up enough energy on its own.

Lunch was an entirely separate spectacle. Bashira had tried getting used to doing things alone yet other people were popping up more and more often in her life. Similarly to what had happened a week or two before, Kirishima noticed her and called out as she carried her food away from the serving station. Obediently, once again mostly just to get him to shut up, Bashira joined his group. It was more or less the usual gathering: Kirishima, Kaminari, Jirou, Sero, and – keeping an empty seat between himself and the rest of them – Bakugo.

"I guess you don't mind if I sit here, right?" Bashira half-joked as she put her tray down. She liked everyone just fine but wasn't totally sure if they felt the same about her or only acted on behalf of Shoto.

"Depends what you picked for dessert," Sero drawled with an exaggerated grin. "I'll take some mango ice cream, if you got it."

"Sorry," Bashira simpered, "but I skipped the sweets."

While Sero made a show of deflating, Kirishima was as genuine as ever. "No worries! We're asking you, not your food."

Convinced as much as she could be, Bashira settled in. She would have followed Bakugo's lead and left one seat open between herself and Jirou but that probably would have only made things awkward.

"How's it going?" Earphone Jack asked, keeping her focus on her food. It didn't seem like she was being rude or disinterested, though, and Bashira remembered that Jirou was one of the only girls in Shoto's class that seemed to have a more normal, toned-down personality.

"Good enough," Bashira offered, deliberately keeping her answer lackadaisical. Jirou didn't seem to mind at all but Kaminari piped in with exuberance.

"That's all you've got to say?" the blonde challenged. "Aren't you a newlywed? The 'honeymoon phase' should have you feeling great! Don't tell me Todoroki's falling _short_ , if ya know what I mean?"

Bashira could feel her face (and heart, and blood flow) freezing. Did he really just go there?

Thankfully the rest of the group saw the blinding fault in Kaminari's comment.

"Did you let one too many electrical currents fry through your brain?" Jirou spat. She dug her elbow into Kaminari's side to drill in the point.

"Yeah, that's so not manly," Kirishima added with a frown. Kaminari flustered and did his best to defend himself.

"Hey, hey, relax. It was just a jab! I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously!"

"But really," Sero grumbled. Bashira could tell by the way he lowered his voice and spoke through his teeth that she wasn't supposed to hear what he hissed over the table. "Why would you go and say something like that to a girl at all, huh? Let alone one who got forced into a phony marriage."

If Bashira's insides had been petrified before, Sero's words made everything holding her together feel like they'd simultaneously shattered.

So they knew that she and Shoto were a sham. At least she didn't have to keep wondering. Was it better or worse that there wasn't so much pressure to keep up a pretense anymore? How would things change if she didn't _have_ to fake anything?

"Phony?" Kaminari blinked obtusely. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh my god," Jirou groaned, her forehead falling forward onto the table. " _For real_? You didn't figure it out?!"

"What? What am I missing? Tell me!"

The exchange sounded like it was underwater to Bashira, but Sero snapped her back.

"Ignore this idiot, Kobayashi."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Kirishima added. "You don't need to feel weird about anything. We're still your friends. Just be yourself with us."

Bashira thought she probably looked about the same as Kaminari had a second ago as she stared dumbly. Kirishima offered her a smile, his eyes wide and bright but soft with understanding. She didn't even have the space to think about how he looked as cute as a puppy.

The others didn't seem to mind when Bashira retreated within herself. They let her process while they sparked up a new topic (after Bakugo lost it and ordered – loudly – for Kaminari to stop whining). She felt a little guilty for being so disengaged but she had bigger things to worry about.

How was she supposed to be herself again? Was she even the same person? She hadn't even figured that much out yet to begin with.

It'd only been a few weeks, but Bashira doubted she could ever go forward as if she was the same person she'd used to be. How we she just supposed to bounce back? And did she even want to?

Not for the first time, Bashira realized that she had to find even ground with where the new turn of events had left her.

* * *

Paying attention to afternoon classes somehow came easier for Bashira. The lectures and note-taking were a welcomed distraction from her existential crisis. It wasn't like the revelation was new to her, really. She'd obviously realized her life had been turned upside down and wouldn't settle into anything regular any time soon, and she was well aware her behavior and mind set had been erratic lately. So what? Who could blame her? Like anyone else would have reacted any better.

While the news that everyone (being Shoto's class) knew about the arranged marriage put Bashira more exposed and on edge, it was also liberating. No one really expected her to be a blushing bride after all. Maybe they hadn't been judging her as much as she'd thought. Her antisocial-ness was understandable to them then, wasn't it?

Kirishima had called them all her friends. Was he just bullshitting to make her feel better? She hadn't exactly given anyone any reason to legitimately like her. They probably just sympathized and still felt some duty to Shoto to treat her nicely.

Then again, she'd been civil enough where no one could reasonably hate her either, right?

"Kobayashi-san?"

Bashira blinked back to reality. She'd been vaguely aware of class ending but hadn't bothered to move. As her eyes drifted to the left, though, she immediately recognized the twirl-ended hair and orangey eyes beside her.

Wakako Ito was clasping her hands in front of her, the expression on her face trained in seriousness.

An uncomfortable moment passed between the two before Ito suddenly fell forward in a bow. It happened so quickly that Bashira almost startled. Ito pulled herself up just as jerkily as she'd gone down, her features still schooled.

"I'm sorry for the way that I approached you the other day," the other gird said. Bashira got the impression that Ito had practiced her lines. "You were right. None of us had done much to reach out to you before, and it wasn't okay for me to leap in and try to get so personal right away."

Bashira still offered nothing, only watching without a word or twitch.

Ito inched forward and went in for another bow, her mouth opening again to say something, but before she could make it all the way down her head smashed into the edge of Bashira's desk.

Bashira flinched back and choked on a "heh?" She'd meant to ask if Ito was okay but the full question hadn't quite made it out.

Stuck at seventy-five degrees, Ito was stiff and silent. The tension could have been cut with a brick.

"Ow," a small mewl came from the brunette. She still didn't move, which only made the moment that much more obscure.

Slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, Ito pulled herself into a standing position. Her face betrayed none of the pain and embarrassment Bashira thought for sure she must have felt.

"As I was saying," Ito continued. It would have been a valiant effort if her voice wasn't a higher pitch than earlier. "I'm sorry that I was so forward. Please forgive me and give the class another chance to get closer to you more genuinely."

Bashira considered Ito. The sun-set-eyed girl must have had friends in this class if she'd asked Bashira to forgive them all. Then why didn't anyone step in when Ito had gotten hurt? When Bashira eyed the perimeter of the room she noticed a few looks directed towards them, but no action was taken.

How lame.

For whatever reason, Bashira's lips twisted up in a ghost of a smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll all have plenty of chances to make it up to me. Besides, I'm sorry for being a bitch, too."

Ito shook out her daze slightly, focusing on Bashira with clarity that she'd lacked before. Eventually, both girls were wearing some semblance of a smile.

Thankfully Ito didn't linger, taking Bashira's acceptance as her cue to shuffle away with an amiable word of parting. She was an odd one, without a doubt, and Bashira suddenly, and surprisingly, found herself curious about the other girl. At least she didn't seem as shallow and witless as she'd come across in their first encounter. Maybe Bashira should cut Ito some slack, like Class 1-A had done for her.

* * *

"Are these seats taken?"

It was a stupid question, given that there were about six seats empty at the table, so Bashira made sure to smirk and hope the quip came across as such. Everyone sent her warm looks to show they understood the jest – all except one.

"Dumbass," Bakugo seethed. "Either sit the hell down or get the hell out."

"That's just his way of saying you're welcome to join us, and you don't have to ask every time," Kirishima, ever the gracious host, assured. This time, at dinner on the same day, the only change in the lineup was Mineta taking the place beside Kaminari. Bashira eyed the puny purple boy but slid into her intended seat beside Jirou.

The group exchanged snippets of small talk for a few minutes between bites, chewing, and swallowing. Bashira had started zoning out until she heard her name.

"So, Kobayashi, what's your Hero costume look like? I've been super curious."

It was Mineta who asked, his slight lisp and gravelly voice making the addresser obvious. (And, other than the question on its own, its complete stochasticity drew all of the others' attention.)

"I don't have one," Bashira answered, keeping her tone detached. "I thought I told you all that I'm not on the path to be a Hero."

Sero slurped down the bite that he was working on before speaking. "Being in U.A. hasn't changed your stance at all? Laying low made sense where you grew up before, but you haven't considered making more of yourself now that you're here?"

The suggestion threw Bashira off completely. She was offended at first: as if being a Hero was what _everyone_ was supposed to want? But as she thought it came back around to the fact that she was a student in a world renowned Hero school, so it was only to be expected.

"Not really," Bashira responded, playing nonchalant. "I think it's a little too late for me to change gears."

There was a beat before Kaminari stepped in. "Just make sure to remember my name once I go pro. I'm sure you'll hear a lot about me. I'm Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt!"

Kaminari beamed, full of hubris. Bashira sent him a deadpan.

"You mean your Hero name isn't Pikachu-2?"

The response was near instantaneous. As Kaminari turned to ice, the rest of the table erupted.

"Whaaaat," Jirou heaved, expelling her food from more than one hole. "Why haven't I heard that one yet!?"

"You haven't?" Bashira blinked in surprise. "It was an obvious comparison to me."

"There is a pretty clear likeness," Sero snickered.

"Yeah, he is a kind of mousey guy," Kirishima said through his teeth, holding a hand over his mouth to help cover his laugh.

"H-hey! C'mon, that's embarrassing! I'm not some cartoon character, I'm way cool!"

"Pikachu is really popular. What's the problem?"

As the cacophony continued, Bashira, grinning, found her eyes drifting away on their own. By seeming coincidence they found Shoto a few tables over. He was watching his table mates with mild interest, but his eyes snapped to meet hers as if he'd felt them.

There was a sort of lapse of time, and Bashira belatedly felt her smile slipping as she lost her concentration. On the other end, though, Shoto's lips quirked up at the corners in an expression she'd never seen on him. It was strange, but she wasn't against it. In fact, she liked that look on him, as well the feelings that it put in the pit of her chest when it was directed towards her.


	11. Chapter 10

Shoto receive a message that piqued his interest the next day. Endeavor was good about only contacting his son when it pertained to business, but he'd also made it clear, albeit without direct words, that Shoto would be temporarily lessening his hands-on Hero training once Bashira came into the picture. As annoying as the setback had been, Shoto knew that his father wouldn't be particularly generous with the grace period; despite the marriage and "bonding time" being Endeavor's idea, he'd made it a mission to personally train Shoto much, much before any ideas of nuptials were the faintest possibility. Their professional work would always reign as their greatest duty.

While the League of Villains hadn't been causing nearly as much trouble as they had a year or two prior, the fact that most of the core members were still alive and running free made it certain that the world hadn't seen the last of them. Sightings of the villains were reported on the regular but most turned up inconclusive or false. Apparently, though, there was a strong enough lead on the one named Dabi for Endeavor himself to pursue, and the Number One requested for Shoto to be present for the raid as well.

Shoto was a little wary, if he were honest. Dabi was one of the most formidable foes that the Pros hadn't yet managed to overtake, and Shoto wasn't all the way sure why his father wanted him to be the one to provide back-up and support. But he wasn't about to argue either. Shoto was going to be a Hero. This type of thing would be his everyday life. He had to get used to being called to the front lines at any moment.

So did Bashira.

It was late in the afternoon when Shoto exchanged some brief messages with his dad. They would be meeting around midnight and conducting their investigation in the earliest hours of the morning. The sun was still out when the plans were made, and Shoto wandered into the family room to find Bashira curled up on the couch, flipping through TV channels. She did that a lot, he was starting to notice; Bashira lounged around, seemingly at ease and care-free, when there were probably plenty of other responsibilities and productive tasks she could have chosen to focus on instead. She was either doing nothing or overworking herself, Shoto inwardly chastised. There was no balance with her.

"Hey."

Bashira only half perked up when Shoto spoke, glancing his way but not altering her position. She reminded him of a cat.

"I've been assigned to a mission tonight," Shoto relayed, careful to keep the details mum. "I'll be leaving late. I may not be back before morning."

Bashira only blinked, and Shoto wondered if she realized any of the implications of what he'd told her.

"Okay," Bashira said, turning back to the TV. There was a pause. "Are you going to take a nap now, then? Or do you want to watch a movie or something?"

It was one of the stranger things Shoto had ever heard from her and he found himself stuck. It would be wise to rest, he knew, but it seemed like he was supposed to want to spend time with Bashira, too. They'd never actually tried to relax _togethe_ r, had they?

How could that idea sound so uncomfortable?

"I should try to sleep while I can," Shoto answered. He thought about finishing with _"maybe next time"_ but somehow the phrase didn't feel right. "Thanks anyway."

Bashira nodded, her attention apparently wrapped up in the show playing. It didn't seem like she was going to say anything more so Shoto retreated to his room. Oddly, the exchange left him feeling both distantly anxious and numb.

But that probably had more to do with pre-mission jitters.

* * *

Bashira had been dreaming. It wasn't anything good or bad – just weird. She was going through a usual day at U.A. but her mind brought up some unusual elements, like old classmates suddenly blending into her current class and an ex-crush of hers showing up in the lunch room. It was during lunch when she'd noticed and became annoyed by knocking. She'd been trying to talk to Asahi, the guy she'd been chasing in the months before she'd left Ashoro to marry Shoto, when the pounding noises broke her concentration and she'd taken to searching the lunch room in pursuit of the cause instead.

Bashira woke up slowly but it didn't take more than a few seconds to realize that someone _actually knocking at the door_ was ultimately the reason she was awake.

After a brief but frantic intake of her surroundings, Bashira put together that she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Shoto would have been gone for a few hours already, and someone knocking at the door at 4:00 AM couldn't be bringing basic news.

The girl was up and stalking towards the door before her mind could catch up. She couldn't even think about hesitating before she was unlocking the knob and twisting it open.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind. Obviously someone ominous wouldn't need to knock. Right? It had to have been someone safe. But to be visiting at such an ungodly time meant an emergency. Something was happening.

Bashira's rational side faltered as she took in the man standing on her stoop.

A hobo.

A hobo was knocking at her door just before dawn.

How had he gotten onto campus? What did he want? Was he trying to politely rob her? Did he want to take her as a hostage to prove some kind of point? The Todoroki family was apparently a pretty big deal. Was he so desperate for money or recognition to single out Bashira as a victim while Shoto was away? How would he have even known?

It was amazing how much whipped across Bashira's brain in only a breath's worth of time.

The man before he was dressed in baggy black clothes. His hair was a ragged mess, his face beginning to grow an uncontrolled beard, and his eyes bloodshot.

A drunk hobo, Bashira pinned.

The adult regarded Bashira so surely that she wanted to shrink under his evaluation. He was awfully alert for a junkie.

"Todoroki was injured and is in the hospital," the man spoke. Bashira gaped for more than one reason. "It's up to you if you want to go there to see him or not, but I'm required to inform you and arrange for transportation if necessary."

Bashira couldn't string a full sentence together. Everything was muddled, buzzing, her adrenaline overreacting. There was too much she didn't understand in such a short span of time.

The man before her shifted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "By the way I'm Aizawa Shota, Todoroki's teacher."

That information helped. At least Bashira knew this wasn't some random, unnamed guy showing up and giving her an invitation to leave.

Did she want to leave? To go to the hospital? To see Shoto?

How serious was it? Was he okay? People got sent to the hospital for everything. Shoto wasn't just any average person, though: he was a _Hero_.

Bashira struggled to get a grip. She didn't want to keep Aizawa waiting. He seemed impatient, yet not terribly concerned. That meant Shoto wasn't on death row, at least? He had to have been fine if his teacher wasn't all that worried.

But Bashira knew she couldn't say no. How could she say she didn't care that much and would just go back to bed? It'd be a lie. Even if Shoto wasn't in immediate danger he was still hospitalized. Even if she wasn't _really_ his wife, in the sentimental sense, she really did care.

She really was scared.

"Just give me a second," Bashira heard herself say. The words sounded jumbled. "I'll be right out."

* * *

Bashira had been ushered into a taxi at the school gates, but Aizawa didn't accompany her for the trip. She was glad. That would have been awkward.

The ride was still uncomfortable but mostly because Bashira was battling with her feelings. Hospitals had always put her on edge. Her grandmother had reoccurring breathing problems that led her to being admitted a few times a year. Bashira didn't always go to see her, but her grandfather sometimes bullied her into it. It wasn't that she didn't give a hoot, but she knew her grandmother hated being weak and tied up to machines as much as Bashira hated seeing her that way. It was an unspoken agreement between the women, maybe, that kept Bashira away more often than not.

Would it be the same with Shoto? Would he be ashamed that he'd been hurt? Bashira would have to play it cool. Maybe she could tease him about waking her up so early.

If he was actually okay, she'd be relieved enough to easily throw a joke his way.

Once she got to the hospital, Bashira wasn't sure what to do. The first desk she came to directed her towards another wing, and there the attendant only told her to sit down and wait for news from the doctor. The sun had only just risen but there were a handful of other people in the sitting area with her.

There was a TV against the opposite wall that Bashira tried to concentrate on. It was muted with subtitles that she couldn't keep up with. What started out as stupid infomercials eventually lead into the morning news. Twenty minutes into the broadcast there was still no mention of Shoto or any major Hero work from the night before. Did that mean it hadn't been that big of an issue? Or was it some secretive mission the authorities didn't want reported just yet?

Bashira grew more unsettled as she waited. If Shoto wasn't badly injured then what was taking so long?

No matter how much time had actually passed, it felt like hours afterwards when someone finally came out and called for "Todoroki".

Bashira straightened up at the name but didn't stand right away. She wasn't a Todoroki. But Shoto was. So they must have been asking for her.

As Bashira pulled herself to her feet and did her best to collect herself, there was another girl who leapt up and scurried towards the doctor without much hesitation. Bashira took a couple of steps before she noticed and paused. The other girl hadn't realized Bashira had moved too, but the doctor had. He raised a brow, staring at the teenager pointedly, and his line of focus was what brought the other girl to turn around in confusion.

She had silvery-grey hair with red chunks. Her eyes were somewhat masked by a pair of glasses but her face looked young. Her style was sort of frumpy, though. She wore dress pants and a shapeless, grandma kind of sweater.

Bashira panicked for a split second. Was this Shoto's mother?

No. She didn't seem old enough. So…

Fuyumi?

Bashira stiffened, keeping herself as still as a statue, letting Fuyumi gage the situation and make her own decision. Fuyumi had more of a right, Bashira rationalized. Fuyumi could decide if Bashira would stay waiting outside or go in as part of the family.

It seemed to take Fuyumi a second more than Bashira to put the pieces together... but then she smiled. Bashira was both perplexed and a little humiliated that her eyes welled up when Fuyumi extended an open hand, beckoning Bashira forward.


	12. Chapter 11

Bashira was having an out-of-body experience while she followed Fuyumi through the hallways of the hospital. Fuyumi was enraptured in every word coming out of the doctor leading them but Bashira was deaf to all of it. She couldn't concentrate. The situation with Shoto had rattled her enough in the beginning, then there was the unexpected meeting with her sister-in-law – who seemed to take an unnatural comfort in clinging to Bashira's hand like her palm was a personal stress ball.

They soon came to Shoto's room, which Bashira only realized once they were inside the curtains and she recognized the body in the bed. She instantly felt out of place and hovered a little further away than was probably normal as the doctor checked on Shoto's vitals. Thankfully, Fuyumi let go of Bashira's fingers when she caught site of her brother, opting to fuss over him instead.

He was fine. Bashira realized that much.

Fuyumi focused on the doctor's commentary but Bashira's brain filtered through most of the jumble. She was more intent on watching Shoto. He was unconscious and wearing an oxygen mask, which sparked a flare of annoyance in her chest. Who was that crock to tell them Shoto was okay when he was passed out and covered in wires? He looked like he was on life support!

Bashira clenched her jaw and she sharpened her attention to listen in a little better on the exchange taking place. There were injuries due to smoke inhalation, the doctor said. Shoto's body was slightly better adapted to the effects of flames than the average person but still not invincible. There wouldn't be any lasting damage; the hospital stay was more of a precaution, considering Shoto was still a high school student – top Hero potential or not.

Bashira began to zone out again once she got enough of the story to placate her anger. It could have been a lot worse. She had to keep telling herself that. At least this way, at the end of the day, Shoto was _going to be_ okay.

The doctor and Fuyumi were drowned out completely again as Bashira turned away from the scene, measured her breathing, and tried to mentally take herself out of the hospital all together. She hated hospitals. Who didn't? They reeked of emptiness, heaviness, hopelessness…

It was movement from the other two that brought Bashira back into the moment. The doctor gave a brief bow before taking his leave. Fuyumi had returned his parting gesture but Bashira stood still, leering at him from the corner of her eye. She knew it wasn't fair to be hostile but her feelings were all over the place and she didn't have it in her to play nice with strangers.

Yet then there was Fuyumi, who pivoted towards Bashira once the doctor vacated the room. Fuyumi, who clasped her hands in front of her so innocently and sent Bashira a small but pure smile.

Fuyumi had accepted Bashira as a sister before they'd ever met, without knowing much more about her than her name.

And now here they were: alone together.

Bashira shifted her weight, sliding a single foot forward. She wanted to reach out, to meet Fuyumi half way, but that level of friendliness just wasn't in her nature. How could anyone be so open and trusting? She would usually think people who acted like that had ulterior motives.

Whether or not Fuyumi realized Bashira's struggle, she wasn't at all put off. "How about we leave Shoto to rest for a while," the older girl suggested. "It is really early, and I'm sure U.A. will excuse your absence. We could go grab some breakfast?"

Without any reason to disagree or anything better to offer, Bashira nodded.

* * *

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," Fuyumi gushed. She and Bashira were sitting in a pretty unremarkable diner around the corner from the hospital. Fuyumi was, in all likeliness, referring to the fact that she'd been buried in her phone for most of the time since they'd been seated. "I'm just making sure that everyone is up to date."

Bashira didn't respond, busying herself with blowing on her coffee. Normally she wasn't the biggest fan of drinking it black but she hadn't known what else to order and that was the easiest thing. On an empty stomach, though, the bitterness was only making her more nauseous.

Feeling awkward and pressured to fill the silence, Bashira managed to pique, "Your mom?"

Fuyumi finished typing out the message she'd been working on before plopping her phone down. "Yeah, Mom's been the most active in the conversation. I let my other brother know too. He's not quite as worried but is upset about how things ended up so bad when Dad was supposed to be in charge."

Again, Bashira didn't know what to offer. As many suspicions as she had about the Todoroki family, there wasn't much that she knew as actual facts.

Fuyumi's gaze was suddenly, unsettlingly perceptive. "It's ironic that the boys hold the hardest grudges, right?"

Bashira could only shrug, flushing despite herself. Fuyumi was giving her too much credit, or maybe she was teasing? Bashira didn't even know how many siblings Shoto had. How pathetic.

"Shoto's the youngest," Fuyumi explained, almost as if she knew Bashira needed some blanks filled in. "He was pretty isolated when we were kids since Dad was always training him, but he's still the baby. My other two brothers and I tried to look out for him the best that we could."

' _What made Shoto so special?'_ Bashira wondered. If he had two older brothers, why was he singled out? Unless the others were Quirkless, why wouldn't Endeavor have trained them, too? If he'd only cared about power, why not have more sons in the running?

And what about Fuyumi? Was Endeavor really such a jerk that he'd never considered a daughter as his successor?

Was that the kind of man the Hero Endeavor actually was?

Bashira gripped her mug with both hands, ignoring the heat. Maybe she was jumping to too many conclusions. Shoto clearly hated his father, and she trusted Shoto, so it was hard not to think the worst of the situation. Why didn't Fuyumi seem to have as many problems with everything, though?

Before Bashira could wallow too much, a waitress came over with their food order. Fuyumi had only gotten some fruit and western oatmeal so Bashira's okonomiyaki looked especially gluttonous.

The food did, at least, apply occupy them. Bashira had to force herself to eat at a regular pace; with her nerves buzzing the way that they were she wanted to shovel everything down as quickly as possible, then pass out and hopefully die.

"Is your mom coming?" Bashira eventually ventured to ask. The idea had been hovering for a while. In some weird way, Bashira was actually anxious to meet Rei.

"No, I told her not to," Fuyumi said. "Since it's not an emergency I just promised I'd just keep her updated."

Bashira accepted the news, not acknowledging if she was more relieved or disappointed. She perked up when another sudden thought hit her.

"Where is your dad anyway? Weren't he and Shoto on the same mission or whatever?"

Fuyumi, at first, seemed equally surprised by Bashira's observation. After a second she turned a little sheepish, moving her food around with her spoon.

"I'm not really sure to be honest; probably with the police, or with his agency. There must be a lot of official business to go over."

A frown tugged at Bashira's lips. So the guy didn't even care to visit the "Golden Son" he'd failed to protect? Or he already knew that Shoto was okay but couldn't be bothered to reach out to his worried family?

"Being a Pro is a lot responsibility, and I can't imagine how much stress that brings," Fuyumi went on. "Dad's always been distant, and I know his temper gets the best of him sometimes, but I try not to blame him."

Maybe someone else might have been warmed by Fuyumi's reasoning but if anything the explanation only made Bashira more frustrated. Fuyumi was obviously a nice girl but was she really that delusional?

Bashira got the feeling that Fuyumi read through at least some of her plastic expression, yet the older girl didn't expose it outright.

"I'm sure Dad's just really busy, he always is," Fuyumi said, like she was reiterating everything again with new words to make it more believable. "He cares about all of us in his own way. I know that."

Bashira's lips thinned out and she had to catch herself when she started grinding her teeth. Anything she said about the subject of Endeavor would surely be insulting. It _was_ their first meeting, and Shoto _was_ in the hospital next door. It probably wasn't the time to get too personal with Fuyumi about any of that stuff.

The only other thing that Bashira had picked up on while Fuyumi was talking was the way she addressed people: she'd called her father "Dad," her mom was just "Mom," and she'd used "we" and "us" like they were inclusive. It might have only been a habit that Bashira was looking too much into, but if Fuyumi expected that Bashira was going to start referring to the Todoroki's as her own parents and siblings that easily, she was setting herself up for major disappointment.

(The idea of using the word "Dad" when talking about Endeavor honestly made Bashira want to choke.)

The girls finished their meal making small talk about school and the best shopping around Tokyo.

* * *

Shoto was awake when they made it back to his room.

Fuyumi took the lead in rushing to him, although she was careful to maintain some space and tone down her concern. Bashira, much like before, lingered on the outskirts against the curtains.

"It's nothing," Shoto assured his sister. His voice always had a bit of a husk to it but it was much more pronounced after his injuries. "I'm fine, don't worry."

Shoto glanced over to his wife, and the two of them maintained a prolonged second of eye contact. It was meaningless and heavy all at once. When Shoto turned away to face Fuyumi again, Bashira almost had to remind herself to breathe.

A nurse came in for a routine check, and the woman somehow sprung up a casual conversation with Fuyumi. It made Bashira feel even smaller that a random person would connect with her sister-in-law so much easier than she had, but she was at least a little glad that Shoto was as stagnant and disinterested as ever, despite the friendly chirping next to him.

At some point Bashira started to wonder if the nurse was lingering on purpose. Did she know who Shoto was? What a leech.

As Bashira's anxiety and annoyance grew, she was saved by the most unlikely of heroes.

The room palpably dimmed when a huge form entered.

"You're still keeping him here? Don't over exaggerate. I'll just donate the money if that's what you want, but Shoto has more work to do."

Endeavor was as tall as a man and a half and probably thrice as wide as the average body-builder. It wasn't Bashira's first time being near him but before, when they were at the courthouse signing for the marriage license, she'd had other things on her mind. And back then, Endeavor had been a Hero to her – someone you weren't supposed to fear.

As Bashira eyed Endeavor in the hospital room, standing only two meters away, she struggled to process through a completely aberrant impression of him.

He hadn't ignited his flames – which had to have been due to a safety policy more than anything – but his mass alone was glaring. His scarlet hair mimicked the fire of his Quirk, though, and the gnarly scar tearing through the left side of his face made it clear, if there any doubt, that he was a well-seasoned warrior.

Still, Bashira could only see a monster. As little as she knew and as presumptuous as she knew she was being, she felt nothing but abhorrence.

Shoto hated the man, and somehow that was enough for Bashira to decide that she did, too.

Bashira's eyes darted to Shoto, trying to gauge his reaction. It was useless, since Shoto was nearly always composed, so she snapped her attention back to the Number One.

"Dad," Fuyumi breathed, taking a step closer. Bashira had the fleeting feeling of wanting to slap her away.

Endeavor mostly ignored his daughter, only granting her a look and slight movement of acknowledgment, before he refocused on the nurse. The nurse had clammed up, her jaw slack and eyes wide, obviously intimidated by the unannounced, very infamous guest.

Bashira wasn't sure what came over her. Her mind was fuzzy and she heard the words before she could even totally realize they were coming out of her own mouth.

"Just be thankful that you could come in here and see your son breathing." The sentence garnered the entire room's attention. Bashira's vision fell out of focus. She stared blindly towards the corner of Shoto's bed, her arms crossed and pressing into her sides – as if she was nonchalant. ( _As if_ ). "You can flex your status somewhere else. Let the professionals here do their jobs."

The silence was deafening in the aftermath. While some part of Bashira was proud of the sharp _burn_ she'd dished out, a bigger part of her was petrified.

It was a good thing she'd delivered some badass last words, because she was definitely about to die.

Her knuckles were far back and hidden by her arms enough that Bashira felt fine about digging her fingernails into her ribs. The pain was acute but sobering. It would reasonably distract her from whatever was about to come.

When a few beats passed without anything happening, Bashira gathered enough courage to gulp and look up. Endeavour's eyes were on her (along with everyone else's). Shockingly, though, they didn't pierce straight through her like she'd been expecting. Was it that Bashira didn't matter nearly enough to have offended a guy like Endeavor? Or was she just somewhat immune. Endeavor had the same eyes as Shoto's left side. Rather, Shoto's left side was like a copy-and-paste of Endeavor, physically. The colors and shaped were all the same but the person behind them was their own individual.

The silence stretched, and Bashira and Enji didn't do anything more than keep staring.

There was a hint of movement behind Endeavor. "I would prefer to keep him here for more observation," the doctor from earlier said as he edged around the other man, "but since he's not in any kind of critical condition, I'll allow his discharge. Just make sure to take it easy for the next few days to give your airways more time to heal. No training with fire or strenuous activities, okay?"

The doctor looked up from the chart he was holding, directing this first half of his monologue to Endeavor before switching the direction over to Shoto. He must have been used to treating Heroes and anticipating their demands to be so guileless.

While none of the Todoroki's responded verbally, the lack of protests seemed to please the doctor.

"Who's going to be taking you home today, Shoto?"

The question pulsed down to Bashira's toes. It was similar to earlier, when the doctor had called out for "Todoroki" in the waiting room. She and Fuyumi had both stood up then and silently agreed to share the role.

Bashira and Fuyumi looked to each other at almost the same time. Would Shoto want to go home or back to school? Was he going to say anything? Why wasn't Fuyumi saying anything? Why wasn't _Endeavor_ saying anything?

Bashira's eyes darted around the room, looking at every one in turn, trying to grasp at a clue or get a clear answer. No one seemed immediately willing to step forward and take charge.

Fuyumi still looked unsure, so Bashira straightened up.

" _I'll take care of him_."


	13. Chapter 12

Shoto and Bashira took a taxi home together. Neither one of them spoke.

When they got back to U.A. the walk from the gates to their building seemed miles long. They were still silent.

It was afternoon by then. It was hot. Everyone else was in class so the grounds themselves were quiet. By the time the two got to their unit Bashira was slick with sweat and extra unsettled. She wiped off her upper lip and forehead self-consciously.

"I'm taking a shower," were the first words Shoto offered. There was nothing else for Bashira to do but say ' _okay_ ' and watch him go. She honestly would have liked a shower too, but she made do with stripping out of her dampened clothes and letting herself cool down for a few minutes, alone and naked in her room. Their room? Whatever.

As grimy as it was to put on clean clothes after, Bashira tried to forget about it as she changed. Wearing a pair of cotton shorts and an over-sized tee, she padded back into the main house and found herself by the couch. She settled down in her usual spot and turned on the TV.

Bashira honestly didn't know what she was watching, and she didn't even think about it until Shoto got out of the shower and she heard him moving around. It was then that she made an effort to flip through the stations – the Discovery Channel was respectable, right? – and molded herself into the cushions as if she'd been at complete ease all along.

Shoto made his way into the living room not much later. Bashira didn't look at him directly but even from her peripheral she noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Really? There was a towel around his shoulders that covered most of his chest but she still considered his state of undress some kind of cruel and unusual punishment.

To make it worse, Shoto sat down on other end of the couch – about as close to next to her as he'd ever been.

Bashira might as well have been staring at a wall for as much as the TV distracted her. Was Shoto angry? Impressed? He could have not wanted her to go to the hospital in the first place. And then she'd gone and sassed his dad while she was there. Had she been in the wrong? About everything? Or did she win any kind of points for her performance?

The Todoroki Clan was driving her crazy.

Bashira was driving herself crazy with the fact that she actually cared about them at all.

Bashira chanced a glance over to Shoto. He looked about as enthralled with the TV as she was. His eyes were actually on the wall, fogged over, obviously not connected to his surroundings.

Should Bashira just ask him outright what he was thinking? She doubted he'd give her an answer if she did. He'd probably flip the question around so that she'd be the one stuck in the spotlight.

Maybe, then, she could just take the initiative to start talking for herself.

"Sorry if you didn't actually want to leave with me," Bashira started. It sounded lame so she looked away quickly, before Shoto could catch her eye. "I just figured you'd rather be at U.A. and get back to everything as soon as you could."

Shoto's answer didn't come straight away, and it took a lot of effort for Bashira to pick at a loose thread on her shorts nonchalantly, as if she wasn't freaking out on the inside.

"It's fine. You were right. I'd rather be here."

There wasn't anything that came to Bashira as a response, so after a few seconds she just settled on not responding. What did they do now? Why did he come in and sit next to her to begin with? He'd never done that before. What did he want? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Maybe it was just in her head but Bashira felt the pressure in room, in their silence.

So she broke it. Stupidly.

"Fuyumi said you were isolated as a kid," Bashira said. She stared ahead at the table holding the TV, hoping that would help her keep her nerve. Why was she even talking about _that_? "You have three siblings, though. I'm an only child."

Bashira didn't really know what her words were supposed to accomplish. What was the conversation supposed to accomplish?

Oh, well. She'd already started.

"You said your mom was put in the hospital a long time ago, by your dad." Bashira couldn't help herself when she shot a look over, more to Shoto's scar than Shoto himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out where that kind of injury came from when one of the parents was a fire user. "I told you my mom was in the hospital, too. But she did it to herself. She's never really been functional. She makes her own problems."

It sounded harsh, she knew, but Bashira couldn't take it back. She didn't really want to either. It was the truth. Shoto deserved to know about it by then, didn't he? It was only fair.

"She had me when she was seventeen. She and my dad weren't even dating or anything, it just happened. They were both a little wild back then I guess. That's why my grandparents raised me. My parents weren't ready, and they never got ready."

Bashira pulled her legs in, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin between her knees. When she felt adequately buried, she took in a deep breath. As random as the confessions were, she didn't want to stifle the flow. It was easier not to think about it – let it all out the way you ripped off a Band-Aid.

"Remember when I said that I agreed to all this because there wasn't anything else for me? It's because I understood everyone's position in this. My parents were never really parents, and neither were my grandparents. They're old. They want to retire and live quietly, so they took this opportunity thinking they were securing a good future for me. It just worked out that I ended up shipped to the other side of the country in the process, and none of them have to deal with me anymore.

I can't say your side is totally clear to me, but the fact that your dad picked me based on my Quirk makes it seem like he has certain intentions. Is that why he picked your mom, too? I didn't connect all of that right away, but now it makes me furious to know that he thinks he can control us like that. Isn't he supposed to be a hero? How can he get away with things like this?"

Bashira had noticed the welts in her sides earlier, in her room, left from when she'd clawed at her ribs while standing up to Endeavor. She'd definitely have the same welts on her thighs now, since she was doing the same damage there.

"It's not illegal."

Bashira jerked her chin towards Shoto. He was gazing ahead, almost like he hadn't been bothered by anything she'd said, but Bashira was sure that she saw the slightest hint of tension in his features.

' _Abuse is illegal,_ ' she wanted to say. But what would that do? Who would combat and prosecute the best professional hero in the country?

Maybe that was what Shoto – and Rei, and Fuyumi, and the other brothers – had known all along.

It made Bashira sick. She didn't even want to fully think about what it had been like for Rei. Shoto at least respected Bashira, leaving her mainly to herself and letting her maintain her space. Rei must have been thrown in bed first thing and then –

Bashira hugged her legs closer.

"My mom was in the hospital for most of my life," Shoto said. Bashira was mildly surprised but grateful for the comfort that his contribution gave her. "She made a mistake, but I always knew the fault belonged to my father. We all suffered because of him. My mother was the one who gave me this scar, though, so she was punished for it." Shoto didn't gesture to his face – he didn't need to – and Bashira was stumped. Just a minute ago she was so resolved in blaming Endeavor… how could it have been Rei who'd hurt Shoto? "The reason that I agreed to this, that thing my father promised me? It was my mom's freedom. He arranged for her release the afternoon that you and I signed our marriage license."

And with that, like the snap of two fingers, Bashira felt something inside of her crumble.

She pressed her face further into her legs, trying in vain to fight back the tears that suddenly flooded up to her lashes. Why was she so sensitive all of a sudden? Just because she and Shoto were exchanging sob stories for the first time? She wanted to be ashamed about it but she didn't have the energy. Putting up walls took too much energy.

 _God fucking damn it._

Bashira didn't have the strength to _not_ cry anymore. How had she even lasted that long, with everything that had happened to her?

How had she been so selfish when Shoto had so much more weight on his shoulders?

"I'm glad," Bashira breathed. She tried her damnedest to form a coherent breathing pattered that wouldn't make her words sputter. "I'm glad that something good came from all of this."

Shoto didn't reach out to her or say anything else. Bashira didn't expect him to be doting towards her like that. But he stayed next to her, and that was more than she would have asked from him.

* * *

"Bashira Babe~!"

If the voice hadn't been so poignantly feminine, Bashira would have scowled. When she searched the lunch room and noticed the pink-skinned girl prancing towards her, she was at least able to simmer down to the point of not wanting to punch someone.

"How's it been going?" Ashido chirped as she sidled up to Bashira's side. They looped arms – half unwillingly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

Bashira grasped at a reply but it was ultimately unnecessary once they came up to their table.

"I'm sitting here today, too," Ashido announced, plopping herself down and tugging Bashira down with her. "You guys are always hogging her, I feel like I'm so out of the loop."

"You were away on your work study last week," Kaminari supplied. "Obviously you missed some social things."

"Oh?!" Ashido gasped. "What happened? Something scandalous?"

"No," Sero delivered, "unless you count Todoroki and Kobayashi skipping school together as 'scandalous'."

Bashira hoped the glare she shot Cellophane would curl his tape into unusable string. He only grinned back at her. She'd thought he was okay before but all guys were jerks, weren't they?

"It was nothing," Bashira ground out. "Shoto got hurt, I went to see him. He was fine, we came back. That's it."

That wasn't it, not _completely_ , but no one else needed to know.

Ashido had enough tact to drop the dramatics. "Todoroki was hurt? I heard about Endeavor's mission blowing up, so to speak, but they didn't mention Todoroki being there."

"That's because his Hero name sucks," Bashira quipped. She closed her eyes and took a bite of food. "The media can't announce his real name on TV."

"It's actually smart then, isn't it?" Kirishima said, looking like he'd had an epiphany. "Right now he's still a minor, so no one can report about him without parental permission if he uses his birth name."

"But that'll end soon," Bashira replied. She finished her first bite and took another. "You guys aren't that far away from graduating. He needs to decide on a better codename."

"Well, what would you pick for him?"

Bashira slowed her chewing. First she stared down at her food, and then she stared up in thought. Like some cliché movie, her eyes subconsciously found Shoto across the room. He always seemed to be in her sight.

"I don't know," was all that she said.

"Should it play off of Endeavor's name? Something like 'Exertion' or 'Undertaker'?"

"'Full Blast'?"

"He'd probably want to do his own thing, wouldn't he? That's why he didn't decide on anything yet."

The table looked to Bashira for input. She shrugged. "You all know him better than I do." A collective sigh left the mouths of her seatmates.

"I really do believe that nothing romantic is going on when you say things like that," Ashido groaned. She slouched down and took in a mouthful of food.

Bashira snorted as she lifted more noodles to her own lips. "You should have believed me before. We just tolerate each other."

As she chewed, Bashira looked for Shoto again. She didn't even realize it until her eyes met his.

She looked away, embarrassed about being caught, not even realizing that he kept looking back.

* * *

At home that night, Bashira took her place against the arm of the couch. She'd gotten a decent workout in after class, eaten fairly light during dinner, and was feeling just fine about spending the rest of the night as a lump.

Shoto was home, too. Bashira had noticed the light on in his room. She'd assumed she wouldn't see any of him until the next morning though, unless they ran into each other in the hallway or kitchen coincidentally.

So when Shoto did come out of his room and Bashira heard him pouring a glass of water in the kitchen, she didn't really pay attention to it. But she couldn't exactly ignore a shadow looming over her as Shoto came into the room, and it only came as even more of a surprise when he lowered himself onto the open end of the couch, where he'd sat the day before.

Bashira watched Shoto for a second, blinking once while she put the pieces together. She glanced away the next moment, though, too afraid of getting caught watching him. She should probably just play cool.

They were both just slightly, unnaturally stiff.

"The other day," Shoto said. Bashira was inexplicably on high alert. "…you said something about a movie. It's still pretty early. Want to watch something?"

Bashira slid her gaze over. Shoto was looking at her, his face blank but somehow open. His eyes seemed wider than usual, almost innocent and boyish.

' _He's cute.'_

"Sure," Bashira said, turning away. "Whatever you want. We could order something."

And, after some awkward channel flipping and ambiguous debating, they spent the rest of the night in silence together.


	14. Chapter 13

"Didn't you say you have your provisional license, Kobayashi?"

Bashira looked up, having been leaning over the table as she took a too-big bite of food, and hurried to bring the back of her hand to her face when a few noodles didn't make it all the way into her mouth.

"Yeah," she answered, choking on the rest of the food she'd tried to swallow too fast. "But I don't even know if that applies here."

Back in Ashoro, about half of Bashir's class had gotten their provisional licenses as second years. It was like a driver's license or a high school diploma there. But in the middle of Honshu, the epicenter of all of Japan, allowing someone to call themselves a Hero was significantly more of an earned badge. Bashira was certain that she didn't have half of the abilities that the U.A. Hero Course students did.

"You must have some combat skills though," Kirishima continued. He was the one who'd brought it up. "I've seen you working out in the gym, but why not hone in on hand-to-hand combat?"

Bashira balked. Why would Kirishima challenge her like that? There was no way she would measure up to any of them.

Bakugo obviously shared the sentiment.

"Yeah right," the ruby-eyed boy scoffed. "They probably give a license to anyone who can stand up straight in the hicks."

Bashira scowled and eyed Bakugo. It was a shame that his attitude was so extreme, considering he was on par with Shoto as far as physical appeal went.

"Basically," Bashira hummed. "But thanks for noticing my posture, Bakugo. I work hard on it."

"I haven't noticed shit. You're not worth my attention."

"It wouldn't hurt to brush up anyway, would it?" Ashido asked. She propped her elbows on the table, pushing herself up to very pointedly block out Bakugo. "We could help!"

Bashira glanced around the table, taking in the intrigue that had appeared on almost everyone's faces. Was training really all these people thought about? The idea sounded only slightly better than Chinese water torture to her.

"I won't be a challenge to any of you," Bashira admitted, scanning each of their faces a second time to stress the point, "but I could tag along if you guys are that curious. I could afford to learn a thing or two, I guess."

Ashido gave a whoop and most of the boys beamed. Behind all of that, though, Bashira heard a proverbial nail being driven into her coffin.

* * *

Bashira was close to losing it. Once lunch ended and she went back to class the stress of her decision started taking over.

What the hell was she thinking? She'd be beaten to a pulp. She'd make a fool of herself. She barely even knew any of the others' Quirks so how could she plan on countering? How could she plan _anything?_

She didn't take any notes that afternoon. Bashira only folded her arms on her desk and hunched over, glaring vacantly ahead, too caught up in her own issues to worry about whatever other history lesson her sensei was lecturing them about.

She had more _present day_ problems going on.

Class ended in a fairly predictable fashion. There was a bell, most of the other students scurried to get packed up and out as quickly as possible, and a tiny cough came from beside Bashira's desk.

Bashira was pretty sure who it was before she even glanced over. There was only one person who'd ever bothered to speak to her, after all.

"I had a meeting yesterday," Wakako said, shrinking slightly as if she actually needed to apologize for anything, "so sorry for leaving early. But you were out the other day and I figured you might want to copy my notes? Plus you seemed distracted today so you could take those too…"

Wakako tended to have the worst timing, Bashira mused. The girl didn't approach her that often but she usually picked the days when Bashira was most burdened by outside factors to strike up a conversation and try to make a connection.

Bashira forced herself to put all of her other worries aside for the moment. She did owe it to be nicer to Wakako. "If you're sure you don't need your notebook tonight, I'd be grateful if you lent it to me."

Wakako visibly brightened and thrust her binder out to Bashira. Bashira accepted the book and, disregarding the weight in the back of her mind, did her best to smile. It felt like a scarecrow's grin and must have looked just as stiff.

If only Wakako could help her with the challenge she was about to walk into.

* * *

It'd been months since Bashira had put on her Hero uniform and she was sure she'd never felt more out of place in it.

It was all spandex, for one. The body-constricting material used to make her feel powerful and sexy, but now Bashira just felt exposed and inferior. There were ventilated plates made from a biofoam chassis over each of her most vulnerable areas (shins, knees, shoulders, forearms). They were practical but did little to help with her insecurities. Even the plate that covered her stomach only made her feel thicker around the middle.

Still, Bashira held her head up as she walked into the gym's battle simulator. There were specific grounds on campus used for class room experience but off-hour exercises were limited unless special permission was granted. It was one of those arenas that Bashira found herself in, as she'd been recruited by members of the top class.

Bashira had to be glad that there wasn't a huge crowd waiting for her. It was only Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido. She wondered if there was a limit to the amount of students that were allowed to engage at once.

Ashido was wearing some kind of psychedelic camo; Kirishima was shirtless and in leather straps that reminded Bashira of bondage; and Sero had a vaguely astronaut-looking costume.

"It's just the four of us," Kirishima shared with a thumbs-up. "We'll be in teams of two. Boys versus girls."

Bashira was torn between being relived and more worried. She didn't want to seem chauvinistic but was that really a fair fight? She would probably just slow Ashido down.

"No offense, but…" Bashira twirled the ends of her hair nervously. "…can you guys go over your Quirks for me? I don't really remember them."

The other three fell to the floor in disbelief.

* * *

It became a battle of wits.

Ashido's acid could burn up Sero's tape. Bashira's speed could distract Kirishima enough to land a hit when he wasn't expecting it.

Bashira's Quirk wasn't as well seasoned as the rest of their skills, though. She was conscious of that and did her best to hold off on using it but Sero was relentless in trying to capture her, and she had to slow time around her more often that she would have liked in order to avoid him. Plus, when she did manage to land a kick on Kirishima, his Hardening did more damage to _her_ than it did to him.

It wasn't Ashido's fault. The boys had obviously zeroed in on the same logic that the girls had and countered accordingly. Kirishima did all that he could to keep Ashido busy, his Hardening Quirk repelling the worst of her acid, while Sero zeroed in on Bashira with his tape attacks. Bashira wasn't sure if he really intended to capture her or just wanted her to wear out her Quirk, but either way she knew she had to come up with something to change the tides before they were left facing a loss.

Her mind was hazy and frantic, mostly distracted by running and dodging and the likes, but Bashira did her best to narrow in on the most plausible tactics that zapped across her mind.

As soon as Ashido landed close enough, Bashira grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her behind a boulder.

"How long can Kirishima keep his Hardening up?" Bashira hissed before Ashido could even take a breath. Their hiding spot was as lame as anything: they didn't have more than a few seconds.

"I'm not sure exactly," Ashido answered just as quickly. "His stamina has gotten almost unreal, but his defense does weaken as he takes more damage."

Bashira nodded. Even if she didn't have a real plan, she had the beginnings of something close enough to one and there was no choice but to go with it. "Okay."

Just when Sero's tape rounded the corner for the girls, Bashira clasped Ashido's wrist again and activated Zeitnot.

Bashira didn't give Ashido any time to react before she started stalking towards Kirishima, who was thankfully no more than four yards away.

"Whoah," Ashido awed. She began looking around in wonder, making Bashira tug her along with more force to keep up their trajectory. "So this is what it's like when you practically vanish to the rest of us, huh? I didn't know you could expand it to other people!"

"I control the molecules around me," Bashira said shortly. "I can include other bodies within a meter radius but it takes a lot of extra effort so hurry up, alright? And stay close."

Ashido complied and they made it to Kirishima. Once in front of him Bashira let go of Ashido but shifted herself half behind the other girl, just in case.

"I guess now you just… blast him with your acid?"

It almost seemed too simple. Bashira was sweating from both exertion and embarrassment at that point but Ashido, after a brief pause, held her arms out in the stance of her signature move. "You got it!"

The acid came out like water from a fire hose, making Bashira flinch back even more behind Ashido. If the plan did work and Kirishima's Hardening was damaged, would the acid melt his skin off? Then again Ashido didn't really seem concerned so it must be okay…

"How long do we keep this up?" Ashido asked. Bashira wondered if Ashido was starting to wear out but she couldn't be one to judge; there was a faint tremor in her bones, slowly increasing as to make her fingertips quiver. More sweat was beading on her face and neck, trickling down her spine and increasing her shivers.

"Ten more seconds," Bashira guessed. The effects of her Quirk hit her fast when she tried to pull fancy stunts. She was lucky she'd limited herself earlier on in the fight.

Bashira didn't have the energy to give a warning when her stamina copped out. She could only let everything around her fall back into real time, watching through semi-fogged eyes as Kirishima suddenly moved faster, continuing the motions he'd been going through before Bashira had warped things, only to falter when he noticed the girls suddenly right in front of him.

The plan had been to land some epic hit on Kirishima once he was weakened, but Bashira could barely keep herself upright. Her head felt heavy and the pressure building up behind her eyes made her wonder if they were bulging. She had to plant her feet in the ground and resign to watch the emotions flash across Kirishima's face: first confusion, a vague panic, and then pure shock as he connected the dots and hastened to take in whatever damage his Hardening had taken.

Bashira was half way glad she didn't attack him at that point, honestly. For one, it would seem like a low blow. Secondly, there was acid everywhere. It would be tough to avoid. Was landing a hit in a practice session really worth ruining her clothes or, gods forbid, losing any layers of skin? How dangerous was that stuff to an average person?

Kirishima's toughened veneer was cracking like ice, the epicenter being where Ashido had focused her acid spray. While disappointing that his shell didn't shatter completely, the effort that it seemed to take him to maintain the rest of his armor was at least a little satisfying.

"Not bad," Kirishima acknowledged, panting slightly in his own exertion. "You two could have gotten me with that one."

No sooner had he said the words that Sero's tape swooped in, targeting Ashido first – making sure her arms were wrapped up tight to her sides – and then Bashira, who couldn't dream to resist.

"If your teamwork was better, that is," Sero pointed out, sounding entirely too smug. Ashido whined in her restrains ("This was our first time teaming up, give us a break!") but Bashira ignored the bickering. Her silence caught Sero's attention – as well as the fact that she had gone slack in his tape cocoon.

"You okay there, Kobayashi?" Cellophane questioned. All taunting aside, his concern was genuine.

Bashira allowed her knees to hit the dirt. She slouched over, Sero's tape halting her from crumbling completely. The others crowded around her in response but she did her very best to at least speak straight.

"Yeah," Bashira said. Her head was hanging, yet her voice was stable. "I just haven't used my Quirk like that in a while. I'm out of shape."

It was sort of a miracle that she was making words the right way. Bashira's vision was swimming. She felt disassociated from her body and in some alternate reality. She had to force her eyes to stay open, staring straight down, screaming at herself in her head to get a grip and focus.

"You're pretty pale." Kirishima's voice met her. His words were like an arrow going through gelatin. Kirishima kneeled down next to Bashira a second later, cradling her jaw in his hand. "You really over did it, huh?"

Bashira didn't agree or disagree. Part of her was annoyed about being patronized, and another part didn't mind being so pitiful if it meant being doted on. Kirishima was the best of both worlds, wasn't he? He had both brawn and Bo Peep-like qualities.

"I'm fine," Bashira insisted, despite her inner thoughts. "I only need a few minutes to recover. Don't worry."

* * *

Shoto was worried.

It was partly his own fault, he knew. Bashira had been marginally clear about her expectations but that didn't change the fact that when Shoto decided to text her that afternoon, he'd been dismayed to realize that he'd never actually saved her number in his phone.

He should have gotten her number, of course, and not asking for it was his fault. But Bashira was the one who'd disappeared. She was the one who'd brought up the two of them needing to communicate more. Why didn't she tell him she'd be doing something after class? What was she up to? Should he expect to see her at dinner or would she be out all night? Why hadn't _she_ contacted _him_?

She must not have had his number either, Shoto realized.

It seemed pretty pathetic. They'd been married for a couple of months now.

Shoto had just decided to stop pouting and get some studying done when a knock came to the door.

He answered, seemingly without any facial expression. It was Ashido who'd knocked, Shoto surmised, once he saw the girl leap back and join her company. The other two standing, Kirishima and Sero, hovered further beyond the threshold. Shoto was quick and relieved to catch sight of Bashira on Kirishima's back – so much so that he didn't question her being there right away.

"Sorry, Todoroki," Kirishima said. "We worked out today and Kobayashi over did it a bit."

Shoto accepted the information and examined Bashira. She looked all too comfortable bring carried by Kirishima, her face pressed into his shoulder, and Shoto felt a zap of discomfort run through him.

Where did that come from?

"We went easy on her," Sero hastened to add, probably reading Shoto's lack of reaction as something bad.

"Yeah, she did great!" Ashido chimed. Shoto noticed vaguely that the Alien Queen was not-so-sneakily trying to peak into the room behind him.

"Come in then," Shoto relented, stepping aside. Ashido was the first to burst forward, followed by a wary-looking Sero and finally Kirishima. "If she's conscious, just put her in a chair."

It should have been Shoto who checked on Bashira, yet he stayed away and only observed as Kirishima nudged his wife awake and helped to maneuver her into a dining room chair. It was Kirishima who brushed Bashira's hair back out of her face and placed his palm against her cheek and forehead to make sure she wasn't running an odd temperature.

It bothered Shoto, but he remained planted where he stood as if he was unable to move.

"She should just need some rest," Kirishima deemed, standing up straight and placing his hands at his hips. "A good night's sleep should do the trick. She's got no major physical injuries."

"You want me to help her into bed?" Ashido offered. It was an acute suggestion on her part and Shoto would have normally jumped to accept it but his head wasn't working the way that it normally was.

"No," Shoto said before his brain could catch up to his mouth. "I'll handle her."

If the other three made any suggestive motions, Shoto ignored them. He barely registered them leaving for the most part, only sending a nod and word of thanks to their backs on their way out. Before he knew it Shoto was left alone in his home with Bashira.

Bashira really didn't look great. Shoto was annoyed at how little she took care of herself. For a non-Hero Course student, Bashira usually seemed to be in the lesser-healthy percentile of the population.

Still, she was only human. She'd been plucked out of her usual life and thrust into his world, so Shoto had to force himself to give her some credit. Mentality was the basis of physicality, and Bashira's mentality was obviously questionable.

Bashira had taken care of him, though. Bashira had stood up to Endeavor. She'd anchored herself right in the middle of their subliminal feud and declared her stance. It had been a movement that Shoto couldn't forget about and wouldn't overlook.

That movement was, more than anything else, what made Shoto realize how much he appreciated certain traits that Bashira possessed.

As weak as Bashira was in that moment, only half aware as she fell into herself, Shoto wasn't sure what else he could have asked for in a partner. U.A. had taught him a lot of things. Strength wasn't all about power or tactics; you could only be as strong as your comrades and the ones who believed in you.

Shoto stooped down and scooped Bashira up, carrying her to her room. He placed her in bed, not daring to change her clothes and overstep any boundaries. He only made sure that Bashira was comfortable and safe before retreating to his own space and getting ready for dinner.

Shoto worried for Bashira in more ways than he'd ever thought that he could. She would probably be mad in the morning, having slept in dirty clothes and been put to bed in a mess. But she was home, and Shoto had been the one to secure her where she belonged, and just that simple thought brought him some sense of peace.

* * *

 **(A/N)**

 **For those of you who like visuals, I imagine Bashira's Hero costume as being similar to Sango's demon-hunter attire in** _ **Inuyasha**_ **.**

 **Also for reference, if anyone has seen the quintessentially 2000s movie** _ **Clockstoppers**_ **, it's what I thought of while imagining Bashira using her Quirk. (Creepy note: not ten minutes after I only THOUGHT of that movie I went On Demand (to brush up on MHA episodes while writing) and found that very film on the top of my recommended list. It literally doesn't relate to ANYTHING I've watched recently. BRAIN TAPPING MUCH?!)**

 **You've obviously already read. So please Follow/Fav and to make my day, REVIEW~**


	15. Chapter 14

When Bashira woke up the next morning, she realized right away that it was later than usual. Without any strong concern, though, she shuffled around in bed and zeroed in on the bedside clock.

9:38 AM.

Panic pierced her briefly but Bashira calmed herself down with the mantra that " _what's done is done"_. She wasn't in class, so she wasn't going to school. She hadn't woken up, so she could keep lazing. No one was going to come after her or deliver a punishment for taking the day off.

Bashira wasn't in Ashoro anymore. Her grandparents weren't her guardians anymore.

If anyone, it was Shoto that was "in charge" of her. And since Bashira hadn't been woken up (what had happened to her alarm anyway?) it meant that Shoto hadn't been concerned about making sure she made it in that day.

When the details of the day before started fitting together, Bashira figured that Shoto had let her stay home for a good reason. She didn't even remember _coming_ home last night; she had memories in the battle simulator and some fuzzy things in between before being awake where she was in bed.

It was scary and embarrassing that Bashira wasn't sure which of the thoughts going through her head had actually happened or been a dream. She recalled burying her nose into Kirishima's shoulder, less bothered than she should have been by the sweat coming off of him, and having someone's fingers caressing her face. She couldn't pin who it'd been, though. Kirishima or Shoto?

Whom did she hope for more?

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Bashira honed in on what was real in that moment and she realized that she was still in the same clothes from the night before. The spandex costume was comfortable but gross. Who had put her to bed in that?

Then again, wouldn't _anyone_ changing her have been _way_ worse?

The idea of Kirishima tucking her in, at least, made Bashira nuzzle deeper into her pillow. He was such a heartthrob.

If it'd been Shoto, Bashira wanted to shrivel up.

They were supposed to be attracted to each other, weren't they? That was probably half of the problem. There was subliminal pressure there for the two of them to feel something – or was it more to _not_ feel something? – and Bashira didn't want to assume or force anything either way.

It was difficult, honestly, considering Shoto was such a catch. Bashira was naturally drawn to him but, given the completely tasteless reason they we together in the first place, she couldn't help but hold herself back and reject the possibility of them actually being romantic. Which was stupid considering Shoto wasn't the type to flirt anyway. Bashira wouldn't have been all that surprised if Shoto had never even kissed a girl before.

Above all, of course, was the fact that Shoto was so far out of Bashira's league that she felt like an ant beside a lion whenever the two were alone in the same room together.

Until that point, Bashira had mainly been taking everything one day at a time. Were she and Shoto really only going to coexist until something happened to Endeavor and they could get the marriage annulled? How long would that take, and how could she not feel completely scummy about waiting around for someone to _die_? Was she supposed to hope the Number One Hero in the country would fail against a villain just so she could go back to… what? What was she ever really doing with her life anyway, and why did she miss that nothingness?

Bashira pushed her face further into her pillow, this time to try to block out the rest of the world.

What would she and Shoto's endgame be, realistically? They'd both been pretending that getting out of the marriage was inevitable when it was, in actuality, probably more of a longshot than either one of them could fathom. If they took matters into their own hands once they were legal adults, Endeavor could take his scorn out on Rei; she had been the bartering chip to begin with. Was a divorce really worth it if Rei's suffering was the consequence?

Thinking about Rei gave Bashira anxiety. How horrible had it been for Shoto's mom to be married off to Endeavor as not much more than a breeding mare? That poor woman. No wonder she hadn't been able to handle it. She's probably felt so much safer after being locked up.

Bashira imagined Rei as an older image of Fuyumi. Rei must have looked like Shoto's right side, just as Enji was imprinted on Shoto's left side. Shoto really must have gotten equal parts of both his parents.

What would their children look like – Bashira and Shoto's?

Bashira skipped past the middle part of the process – the feelings and sex and all – and allowed herself to fantasize about cradling a baby, her own freshly-born infant, and the overwhelming emotion that a moment like that always showed or described in movies and books. Bashira thought about holding onto the chubby fingers of a toddler as her son-or-daughter struggled to stay upright and take a step on wobbly legs. Shoto would watch on silently with an all-telling, upwards quirk of his lips.

It wasn't the worst possibility, was it?

Would Shoto ever think about the future actually working out for them, too?

* * *

It shouldn't have been so weird, but Bashira didn't know what to do. Once she got out of bed she showered, changed into clean lounging clothes, and shuffled out to the family room. She turned on the TV but didn't bother watching it.

Were there any dishes to do? When was the last time she swept the floors? Was there laundry to wash?

House-wife life didn't exactly suite Bashira. As much as she considered herself an unmotivated person, she knew that she thrived best while engaged in a regimen. She needed structure and feedback.

Shoto wasn't the type to provide any of what Bashira needed. He did his own laundry; he washed his own dishes; he prepared his own snacks. Shoto was an independent man. Bashira understood as much, based on what she knew of his background, yet the realization left her feeling like she had no use at all. How she supposed to supplement him?

She was just _there_.

After a brief self-pep talk, Bashira shifted and lifted herself off of the couch and headed towards the kitchen where she assumed her school bag was. It only took a few seconds of searching to find it placed neatly beside the door. She padded over to collect it before returning to her well-worn spot on the couch. As she shifted through its contents lethargically, there was one thing that caught her attention. It was too bright to be hers: a pumpkin-colored notebook covered in ridiculous cartoon stickers.

Crap. It was Wakako's.

Wakako could just borrow paper from someone else, right? It wouldn't be a big deal. Bashira felt guilty for having kept it but it wasn't the end of the world. Copying the missed notes became her top priority, though, and she went to work to make sure she didn't waste Wakako's favor.

* * *

At what would have been the end of the school day, Bashira's spirits were higher than they'd been in a while. She written down Wakako's notes, gotten through three subjects worth of reading and highlighting, and was most of the way through her maths homework when Shoto got home.

Bashira heard him come in but didn't look up. The TV was still on but the volume was low. She split her concentration between the problem she'd been working on and tracking Shoto's movements in the next room. It didn't take more than a minute for him to find her and hover in the threshold.

When Shoto stayed silent, Bashira couldn't resist glancing over at him. She raised a brow at his presence and simply said, "Hey."

"Hey."

Bashira's brow inched a little higher. That was it?

Shoto must have read her expression because he shifted, crossing his arms loosely and leaning against the wall. ' _So suave_ ,' Bashira thought.

"How are you feeling?"

Bashira barely considered the question before shrugging. "Fine. I'm surprised I'm not sorer. Just generally low-energy."

Shoto didn't give any verbal or expressional response, so Bashira busied herself by going back to her homework. Why did it have to be like that? Why were they so awkward?

"I'm surprised too," Shoto voiced, a little late. Bashira's eyes darted to him. "You overdid it. You should know your limits."

Bashira felt her blood spike. Who was he to judge her?

"I'm not the one who was hospitalized a few days ago," Bashira quipped. She regretted the words even as she was saying them. They weren't fair, but they were coming out anyway. "At least I'm up and functioning."

"You stayed home to rest today."

"I never _asked_ to. You decided that for me."

"Because I knew you would need it."

Bashira scowled but she weighed Shoto's logic. He was looking out for her, of course, but that didn't mean he had the right to use it against her. "I could have managed," she insisted. "I would have pushed through what I needed to do."

Shoto was silent, and again it took him some time before he graced Bashira with an answer. "I know you would have."

Bashira felt a zap at his admission. His expression didn't tell any lies – Shoto didn't tell any lies.

"You would have gone to class today," Shoto went on. Bashira hung onto his words. "…but you wouldn't have been focused. You were better off resting and going back once you recovered enough."

So Shoto could go back to his regular routine the day after being stuck to wires but she couldn't handle the same after only a heavy training session? Was she really that little to him?

"You aren't used to vigorous activity," Shoto added, as if reading Bashira's thoughts, "or such demanding use of your Quirk."

It was true. Bashira couldn't deny that. But did Shoto really have to point it out? Did he have to look down on her like that? She _did_ have her provisional license and _was_ capable enough to have accomplished as much. Just because she wasn't on the Hero track, did her skills not matter at all?

Bashira knew that Shoto was speaking frankly, as was usual, not sugar-coating anything to spare offense. Yet her pride couldn't help but to be shot at. She'd held her own well enough against his classmates, no? As outmatched and scared as she had been, she'd done her best and hadn't fantastically failed. She felt pretty proud with her performance so why did Shoto make it seem like she should be embarrassed?

Had she let Shoto down on a personal level, as his wife? Did she only prove that she wasn't good enough for him?

Shoto noticed when Bashira's expressions tightened, her jaw locking and her eyes narrowing ahead at nothing. He guessed that she was put-out by his comments so he kept talking in an attempt to placate her.

"Everyone said that you did really well, all considered. Your training simply hasn't been on par with ours. Your Quirk is impressive but its potential hasn't been fulfilled. We could talk to some teachers here, if you want. I'm sure they'd be interested in helping… you…"

Shoto trailed off when he took in the far-off look on Bashira's face. He connected the dots quickly.

' _Speeding up time isn't very useful. It means that everything around me moves faster but I'm more or less catatonic in the meantime…Really, the only time I ever speed things up is when I want to skip out on being lectured…'_

Bashira was using her Quirk to block him out. She was using her Quirk so soon after _over-using_ her Quirk, which left Shoto annoyed. But he was stumped as to how to snap her out of it.

Pat her on the cheek? Shake her arm? Pour water over her head?

Shoto was saved from the decision when Bashira blinked, her eyes fluttering as she very obviously fell back into real time, and she finally focused on him.

"Okay," was all that Bashira said. Shoto had to deadpan at that. She really had no idea what she was agreeing to.

"It's decided, then," Shoto proclaimed in all seriousness. Inwardly, he scrambled to come up with some scheme. Creativity wasn't his strongest suit. "You'll leave tomorrow. I've arranged your transportation. Just remember the password and you'll get through just fine."

It was some perverse sense of amusement that Bashira's reaction brought him. He probably wouldn't have caught it if he weren't looking but since he was, Shoto noticed the very slight widening of Bashira's eyes as they bulged, her brows pinching together for just a second before she regained her expression.

"Uh, come again?"

"You weren't listening."

"You weren't saying anything I needed to hear."

"I was complementing you and offering more training."

"…Oh."

Bashira felt heat buildup in her cheeks but she lifted her chin to help her look less ashamed.

They fell into a lapse after that. Bashira was weighing her words. She didn't want to blurt something out – something reactive and snappy – that would make Shoto more irritated. Shoto was simply waiting for her to say something, not feeling the need to say anything more for himself.

As Shoto watched Bashira, with her face a faint pink but a defiant glare in her eyes, he was reminded of the children he'd had to handle during his remedial course as a first year. It was a good thing he'd gotten that practice.

"I'm sorry," Bashira said, her lips twisting. Even though it came out as a grumble it wasn't insincere. "But I don't want you babying me. I don't like it. I over-did everything but it's not like it's normal for me. Could you even count how many times you've wiped yourself out during training?"

Bashira half expected Shoto to argue. _'That's different, I'm a Hero Course student. It's expected of me. You should just study more, there's no need for you to be working with my classmates.'_

Shoto's thoughts were completely different, however. _'I couldn't count how many times, but it was almost never of my own doing. It was my father pushing it all too far. The only other times were when I let myself get too emotional during a fight…'_

Bashira was on the defense. Shoto could tell by the stiffness in her shoulders and the intensity that she was drilling into him. So he glanced away.

"You're right," he admitted, feeling but not seeing Bashira's surprise. "I understand your perspective. Still, I don't like seeing you in that kind of state, so please be more aware of yourself."

Again, it was silent.

Bashira was floored. She'd been preparing for a few different responses but the one Shoto gave her wasn't one that she ever would have guessed. He didn't like seeing her knocked down? Was it because weakness just wasn't acceptable or because he cared about her?

It was too much for her to think about while she was still sitting in front of him.

"Okay," Bashira uttered in submission. "I'll try."

Shoto only nodded, but then a new emotion flickered across his features.

"I'm sorry too," he said, "for going through your phone this morning."

It was record breaking. Shoto was usually pretty predictable. How did he manage to shock Bashira more than once over the course of only one day?

"You... went through my phone?"

"I wanted to turn off your alarm."

Ah, so that answered _that_ question.

Unable to read the blankness that suddenly shadowed Bashira's features, Shoto shifted and gazed off to the side. "You should really put a passcode on your home screen."

Bashira was still for another long second, until she snorted and deflated into her seat. "Did you look at anything else?"

She didn't have anything particularly scandalous in her phone... at least she didn't _think_ she did. At some point, when Bashira'd been stuck in the house early on and was feeling particularly resentful, she'd gone through her photos and deleted a lot of the ones she'd taken with her old friends. She'd gotten rid of some racier ones she'd taken for social media that she now regretted. Really, she'd taken good measures to erase the person she'd been in Ashoro and get a fresh start in Musutafu.

"I didn't. Just your clock settings."

Bashira sighed. She believed him. Shoto was a trustworthy guy.

Shoto's posture was statuesque, unmoving and looking only a little uncomfortable. He wasn't watching Bashira anymore, almost too pointedly avoiding her gaze, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. It was cute.

A cross between a smile and a smirk played on Bashira's lips while she studied him. After some moments she straightened up, taking in a deep breath. She rolled her neck until she was facing Shoto head-on. "I need to finish my homework. Do you want to go to dinner together around 17:00?"

Her husband blinked, reminding her of a child caught off guard when they'd been expecting to be scolded. It was _too_ cute.

"Sure."

They'd never actually eaten together, sans the grand meeting in the dorms. That had gone fine so why keep shying away from it?

Bashira, for one, was finally ready.


	16. Chapter 15

Excessive. Unnecessary. Obnoxious.

They were all words to describe Class 3-A's reaction to Shoto and Bashira sitting together.

Shoto usually sat with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. To their credit, they were some of the most composed of the class. Iida didn't offer the couple more than a smile and genial greeting; Bashira didn't know him nearly well enough to catch any implications that might have been behind it. Midoriya and Uraraka didn't say anything out loud and the constant glances and stifled grins they shared, while obvious, were easy enough to ignore.

It was Bashira's regular company, only one table over, that were causing the most ruckus.

Kirishima made the least of a scene, only sending Bashira a wave in acknowledgment. Kaminari and Mineta were unabashedly giggling and shooting over thumbs-ups and crude gestures. Ashido appeared to be pouting, as if taking it personally that Bashira had chosen a different spot, while Jirou smirked softly beside her, speaking quietly to the other girl. Whatever she said made Ashido bristle for a split second before she seemed to redden… er, or, pinked? More than usual. If that were possible.

Honestly. Were they all seniors in high school or freshman in middle school?

 _She was only sitting with the guy, for All Might's sake!_

Bashira jabbed at her sukiyaki, her appetite lost. Shoto ate perfunctorily next to her, as if he didn't notice any of the attention on them. Bashira envied his single-mindedness.

They were joined at the table by a few more people – the multi-armed guy and the tailed boy whose names Bashira didn't remember – and then by Asui, who brought some sense of comfort when she took the open seat on Bashira's other side.

"Long time no see, Kobayashi," the frog-girl greeted as she settled in. She didn't off any special double-take in seeing Bashira there, for which the other girl was thankful. "We haven't talked in a while, how have things been?"

Bashira took the bait and engaged in a polite conversation. It was only when the mention of training came up that Uraraka sprung to attention across from them.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me! Mina-chan was telling us about your session in the simulator the other day. She said you did great!"

"Eh, you trained with our class, Kobayashi-san?" Midoriya also perked up. "No one told me. You really held your own? That's definitely impressive!"

Bashira couldn't help but roll her eyes half way, eying Shoto at her side. "It depends on who you ask, but I didn't die so you could say that I did okay."

"It's a little unusual though, _kero,"_ Asui admitted. "No offense but it's pretty amazing that someone without the training and experiences we've all been through could be much of a match against anyone in our class."

While most of the table was used to Asui's too-casually spoken observations, a few pairs of eyes hung onto Bashira, anticipating her response. Shoto was mildly impressed when she barely reacted, only very subtly pausing in her motions.

"I guess I'm just awesome. Plus everyone went super easy on me, I'm sure."

Uraraka's lips curled up. "I'm sure you _were_ totally awesome," she said, full of sincerity.

"Quite commendable," Iida added, catching Bashira by surprise. She looked down at the table, feeling sheepish. Did this group have compliment competitions on the regular? It didn't seem like Shoto would fit in with them at all.

Bashira felt an urge to glance at Shoto but she refrained. Maybe he hung out with this circle just because of their positivity? There wasn't any stretch in understanding why he'd seek out such transparent people.

Probably sensing Bashira's discomfort, the rest of the bunch let the topic end there. As they chewed and chattered among themselves Bashira continued with her musing, mixing the meticulously prepared food in front of her around into a scramble of slop.

"You should be eating," Shoto hummed next to her. Bashira tilted her head towards him but didn't look over. "You're body's still recovering, it needs energy." Bashira twisted her shoulder in something like a shrug, causing Shoto to sigh. "You're also making a mess."

Bashira's fingers tensed over her chopsticks before making the move to pick up a clump of food – a single bite with a blend of beef and udon and tofu and cabbage _and_ shiitake – and stuff it into her mouth. She turned to Shoto, a challenge in her eyes, and said through the food, " _I li'e it 'is way_."

Which wasn't untrue. Bashira's grandparents had always chastised her for mixing up all of her food into some kind of casserole style. What did it matter when they were at home, though? She minded her manners during special occasions and could be the pinnacle of poise per command. So why care how she ate on the average day? Didn't it all go to the same place anyway?

Shoto seemed about as impressed with her etiquette as her grandparents, and Bashira felt guilty immediately. It was petty of her, especially since they _were_ actually in public, in front of his friends. The only thing she could do was face her plate again and gnaw on her mouthful as inconspicuously as possible. Once she'd managed to swallow everything Bashira scanned the faces at the table, gauging how many of them had witnessed the exchange. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, thankfully, so she sat up straighter and began to eat smaller, more concise bites as a silent apology to Shoto. She could feel him still watching her for a few seconds more until he equally as wily accepted her concession by turning away.

Bashira didn't engage in much of the conversation after that, more so letting the meal pass while she was caught up in her own mind. At one point when she did seem to be paying attention, though, Asui made it a point to address her.

"We were planning on having a girls' get-together tonight, Kobayashi," Froppy explained. "Just to relax a little. Would you want to join?"

It was a weekday, which Bashira at first thought was strange, but then again they were all stuck in dorms and probably needed any sort of escape they could get.

"Uh, sure," Bashira replied. She regretted her decision as soon as she made it, but the way that Asui and Uraraka beamed made her push all of her doubt back. "When and where exactly are you planning this?"

"Yaomomo's room," Uraraka supplemented. "She's tutoring first years now, so we'll bring back some take-out dinner and extra snacks, then meet her there once she gets back."

It took a few moments for Bashira to piece together that "Yaomomo" was actually "Yaoyorozu Momo". Yaoyorozu wasn't her single favorite person in the world but, considering she didn't have a tangible reason to complain about it, Bashira only nodded.

"Okay. Sounds good." Bashira, as a second and almost mocking afterthought, rolled her neck so that she faced Shoto. "Is that okay with you?"

Shoto was finishing up one of his final bites of food and didn't rush on Bashira's account. The girl pouted as she waited.

"Do you want me to come and walk you home afterwards?" Shoto asked once he'd swallowed. It wasn't a response that Bashira would have suspected, and the slight squeak from Uraraka made it obvious she wasn't the only one caught off-guard.

"I'm sure I'll survive on my own," Bashira drawled, purposefully nonchalant. Her lack of interest, though, was more to keep up a charade and not flush over Shoto's show of concern.

Bashira eyed her seatmates as knavishly as she could. Uraraka was blushing more than usual, her eyes wide and shimmering and zeroed in on the couple in front of her. Next to Uraraka, Midoriya's eyes were also soft. His expressing was something similar to someone looking at a shy, dopey puppy.

' _They're really so sheltered and innocent, aren't they?'_

Bashira didn't want to judge and she didn't want to scowl, yet she did both. Obviously these kids weren't normal. Their entire lives revolved around being selfless figures, dedicating their youth towards becoming symbols and peace keepers for some intangible greater good. They weren't even really _kids_ anymore.

It was kind of sad, actually.

Have any of them ever dated? Broken up? Had their heart hurt and twisted?

A Girls Night might be the best chance that Bashira had to get that insider information.

* * *

The U.A dorms, as Bashira took them in more closely on her second visit, reminded her of a library or high-class office space. The common area's walls and windows were too tall to be cozy and the floor plan seemed too vacant without the entire class filling it. Uraraka and Asui lead Bashira along swiftly, leaving her with the feeling that she'd never be able to retrace her steps or recognize any landmarks to help her find her way around again.

The trio wasn't the first to arrive. Yaoyorozu had already returned from her tutoring and prepared a platter of tea and crackers. Ashido and Jirou were also settling in, and Hagakure arrived soon after. The invisible girl was, ironically, someone that Bashira had forgotten existed.

"Thank you for bringing my meal," Yoayorozu said with a smile and clasped hands. She was seated at her desk – the only thing she managed to squeeze into the room other than a literal boat-sized bed – in front of her take-out. "Please excuse me while I eat and help yourselves to drinks and snacks."

The girls obliged, claiming their share of cups and sides before settling on Yaoyorozu's ginormous bed. Bashira hovered between the bed and the desk, leaned up against the wall, holding her tea and busying herself more with blowing and taking tiny sips to help pass the time. She listened to the other girls' chatter – they asked Yaoyorozu about her students and discussed their own work-studies – but she mostly remained a wall flower. Even when Bashira thought of a comment to make, the conversation seemed to pass by too fast for her to find the opportunity to jump in.

The other girls eventually realized Bashira's muteness and made it their mission to veer off and put her under the spotlight.

"So, Bashira-Babe," Ashido remarked, folding over herself to hold her chin in both of her palms, "how are things going with Todoroki? You two seemed _super_ cozy at dinner today."

"It was pretty sweet, seeing you two connecting," Uraraka chimed, looking like she was melting at the memory.

Bashira wanted to blush, really, but she put her everything into keeping a cool visage and scrambling only internally to make her answer blasé.

"If that's what you'd call 'connecting'," Bashira rebutted. She was at least pretty sure her face and tone had stayed neutral even if she couldn't find the exact words to relay an easy nonchalance. "I'm surprised that you're all so supportive, actually." She knew she was delving into dangerous territory a little too quickly, but the move had already been made and she couldn't control the impulse to keep digging. "I would have thought Shoto would have a lot of admirers or girlfriends or whatever."

The aftermath wasn't as monumental as Bashira would have feared; most of the girls didn't seem bothered, and the ones that did react didn't give away anything extreme.

"Obviously he's got the best looking face and hottest bod in our class," Ashido admitted easily, "but he's so aloof, you know? He's gotten way better since our first year but you still never really know if you've getting through to him. Yaomomo's the only girl he's ever seemed close to."

Bashira's gut immediately plummeted and she whirled to face their hostess. Yaoyorozu, to her credit, only coughed on her food in the most girlish way (how could someone even choke _girlishly_?) before regaining her composure and pressing a hand to her chest.

"It's not like that. We're not particularly close," Yaoyorozu promised, making sure to look Bashira in the eye. A second later, though, she was focusing on her lap. "Todoroki is just such an admirable person to me, and he's helped me build my confidence significantly over our time training together as classmates."

But Yaoyorozu was flushing as she spoke, something that Bashira didn't fail to notice. Was Yaoyorozu lying? Whether about not having any feelings or being _more than friends_ with Shoto?

It wasn't fair, Bashira reminded herself. It wasn't fair that she and Shoto were thrust together so suddenly. And, on the other end, it wasn't fair for her to feel so _possessive_. She'd had boyfriends and more-than-friends before. Why wouldn't Shoto?

Still, the hard stare that Bashira had on Yaoyorozu didn't lessen.

 _Fuck_ being _fair_.

"You two are the perfect team!" Hagakure chirped. The motion of her clothing gave it away that she was doing some sort of dance move. "Yaomomo and Todoroki are a good match on the battlefield, but Kobayashi can meet Todoroki head-on personally, challenging him and keeping him grounded all at the same time!"

While not exactly comforted, Bashira was bemused. She was sure that she'd never even spoken to Hagakure; why was the Stealth Hero the first one to cheer her on?

(She hadn't been _spying_ on them, had she?)

"Honestly, Todoroki's not the type I'd ever imagine being interested in a relationship," Jirou confessed. She was sprawled out at the head of Yoayorozu's bed, leaning into one of the way-too-many-to-be-reasonable pillows. "But I get Hagakure's point. If he was to be with someone, that person should have some fire in them – not to be 'punny' or anything."

"Kobayashi is a little icy too, though," Asui added, placing a thoughtful finger to her lower lip. "I guess they do really complement each other, in a way."

"That," Uraraka said, "or they'd just be butting heads a lot of the time, wouldn't they?"

"Not as long as they can balance their hot-and-coldness with each other!"

Bashira half wanted to melt into the wall. She was being talked about like she wasn't right there with them. Was she supposed to be flattered? Appreciative? Were these people always so bold and unfiltered?

Besides that, they barely even _knew_ Bashira. Were they only putting on a show to reassure her?

"So is there really no one else?" Bashira asked, somewhere between a purr and a growl. "Shoto's never had a girlfriend or fling?" Bashira very pointedly didn't glance towards Yaoyorozu. "He's still a virgin and everything?"

There was a moment, an extended breath, when the girls all froze to process the question.

And then, Bashira was surrounded.

" _Virgin_?! Is that what you're worried about?!"

"Are you saying you're _not_ one?!"

"He would never force you into anything, Kobayashi. I would swear on it!"

"Wait – would you be _jealous_ if he had been with someone else?"

Bashira wished she wasn't still holding her teacup. She would have crossed her arms across herself like she was in a strait jacket. "I didn't mean anything either way," she cleared up, maybe too quickly. "It was just a question."

The girls let it go (surprisingly) and edged back to their original spots, twittering amongst themselves too quietly for Bashira to hear. She felt left out – again. But this time she was glad to be.

"I wouldn't blame you," Ashido moaned as she fell back onto the bed. "In fact, I envy you. Whatever might have happened before you're the one with the ring on your finger now, right?"

If Bashira could have pushed herself any further into the wall, she would have. Obviously she and Shoto didn't wear rings. They never made any promise to each other.

"It must be nice," Uraraka murmured wistfully, "to have someone… like that."

Jirou sat up straight, an incredulous twist to her face. "What do you mean? What about you and Midoriya?"

"Yeah, you two have been a thing for years," Ashido dismissed, waving an arm over her head.

"W-what?! We're not, I mean – why would you guys–"

"The denial is really getting old, to be honest."

"Aahh, b-but it's not, we're not –"

"We know. None of us have time for a _real_ relationship," Ashido sighed. While Asui patted Uraraka's arm to help her friend calm down, Ashido shifted her weight to her elbows and clapped her socks together. "It totally sucks."

"Don't say that," Yaoyorozu said. "We're all working our very hardest to become Heroes. The sacrifices will all be worth it once we graduate and become Pros."

' _Would they?'_ Bashira doubted it. The gloom that hung over the room reminded her of the pity she'd felt at lunch. She'd basically found out what she'd wanted to know, at least; apparently Class 1-A really did forfeit most teenage normalcy for the sake of their dreams.

No wonder they were socially unadjusted.

"So, who is that guy with all the arms again?" Bashira asked, sensing the need to change the subject. She used her free hand to twirl the hair near her pierced ear. "There's too many of you to keep track of."

The girls blinked out of their daze. "You mean Shoji-kun?" Asui croaked. Bashira only shrugged because she didn't if that was the person she meant. "He can actually produce different body parts like ears and mouths from the ends of his arms, _kero_. It's a really cool Quirk."

Bashira raised a brow. "More like kinky."

For the second time, like a true slap-stick comedy, a pulse went through the room before all hell broke loose.

Jirou let out a screech, flinging herself forward and clamping her hands over her ears. "Why did you have to say that, huh?! I'll never get that image out of my head!"

"What image? I only said one word – you made up an 'image' all on your own."

"I won't look at him the same way again either!" Hagakure gushed, her bottom half wiggling while her sleeves pitched together as if she were covering her face. "I'll blush for sure!"

Bashira couldn't help but snicker. The girls were way too easy to rile up.

Ashido, despite flailing around with emotion initially, settled down and bit her lip with a reflective look. "Shoji is pretty buff though, isn't he? Strong, silent, chivalrous, chiseled…"

Jirou aimed a kick at the alien girl. "Stop it!"

"There was another one that I didn't recognize at dinner today, too," Bashira went on. "The one with the tail? Although, it is super thick and vascular. And since only the base is covered in hair it definitely looks more like a—"

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT!"

Bashira couldn't dodge the pillow that Jirou whipped her way. Despite the throbbing the direct hit left her with and the near deafening shrieks and squeals from the other girls, she grinned. And when Ashido dragged her onto the bed to be dog piled ("The china!" Yaoyorozu warned in the distance) Bashira only allowed the assault and laughed fully.

* * *

Bashira almost regretted rejecting Shoto's offer to walk her back from the dorms. Even if UA was one of the safest places in the country, a girl couldn't help but be nervous by herself at night.

It was close to curfew so there weren't any other students on campus, leaving an eerie silence in the air. Bashira's footsteps seemed amplified as she made it further from the dorms (the main light source) and closer to her condo. The area in between was the most shadowy. Bashira did what anyone would do and pulled out her phone so she could pretend to text.

She'd been focused on the prickling on the back of her neck so the alerts on her home screen didn't register right away. Between generic update recommendations and news headlines, there was a missed call. A voicemail.

From Noritaka Sada.

The feeling of eyes between her shoulder blades turned into the feeling of a knife in her back.


	17. Chapter 16

Shoto had been up studying. Not waiting for Bashira. Still, he hadn't noticed his shoulders had been tighter than usual until he heard her come in and the muscles relaxed. Tea suddenly appealed to him (he must have needed some hydration or supplements) so he took a break and headed for the kitchen.

Bashira was there, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Hi," Shoto said. It was a normal greeting but it somehow felt odd. "How did it go?"

"Fine." Bashira's reply was detached. She took a sip and swallowed. It seemed to Shoto to take longer than usual. "It was fun."

Bashira kept her back to him. She faced the counter and shuffled over to the sink without lifting her head. It was unusual.

Shoto's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Bashira didn't answer. Shoto waited for the inevitable " _it's nothing_ ". He fully expected her to brush off his question, put up walls and walk away. Yet while she stayed silent, Bashira also stilled. Shoto got the impression that she was debating and he waited, readying himself for whatever she would throw at him.

"My dad called me today."

The statement was something that Shoto hadn't had the chance to consider in his musing. It wasn't as serious as some of the other possibilities that'd crossed his mind but maybe that made it more worrisome.

Didn't Bashira and her dad get along, though? They didn't seem close but at least Bashira hadn't said anything particularly demeaning about the man.

Shoto slipped his hands into his pajama pant's pockets. "What did you talk about?"

"We didn't talk," Bashira said, her shoulders sinking. Shoto vaguely wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he stayed on his side of the room. "He called while I was with the girls, so I missed it. I only just saw his massage."

"What did he say?"

"I didn't listen to it."

A flurry of thoughts hit Shoto; why not? Why are you worrying if you don't know the situation? What are you afraid of? But he kept it all to himself. He didn't think it was his place to comment, not when Bashira probably wasn't comfortable enough with him to hear all of his honest opinions.

"Will you?" Shoto asked instead.

Bashira lowered her glass slowly, letting it sit on the counter with a soft click. Her head fell forward and Shoto could only imagine her expression. As much as he wanted to help he wasn't sure how, or if, she would let him.

Bashira gave a weak huff. " _Should_ I talk to him?"

Shoto didn't answer right away. It was hard to say when he didn't completely understand the relationship between Bashira and her father. "I don't think it could be too damaging."

Bashira turned to look at him then, her expression something like lazy incredulousness. There were probably a lot of things she would have liked to quip back at Shoto but she held back, wilting back towards the counter instead.

"Maybe."

It was such a non-devoted answer that even Shoto understood a change of subject was in order.

"What were you all up to earlier anyway?" The two-toned man questioned. "What did you girls do?"

"We talked about you, and crushes, and sex. Then we had a naked pillow fight. The usual."

Shoto blinked, dubious, not sure how to register or respond. Bashira glanced back towards him, putting an effort into smirking.

"Just kidding," his wife said. But her features were still forced, so Shoto wasn't convinced.

The teenagers stared at each other for a full minute. Shoto's gaze was curious but Bashira had a more calculating tone to her eyes. The exchanged stretched until, again, Bashira was the first to look away.

"I'll listen to my dad's message later," Bashira promised the counter, her face lowering towards it.

"Do you want me to be with you?" Shoto asked. The words came out before he'd entirely digested the thought, so even he was left stumped at the offer.

Bashira went even stiffer and even more silent. Shoto was confused but he figured that there was more to the story than Bashira had told him, or at least more hard feelings than she had expressed – whether towards _him,_ personally, or her towards father. He could at least have empathy with the latter fact.

"…No. It's fine. I'll be fine."

Shoto could only accept Bashira's decision, and her reclusive cues, and retreat back to his own room, where he would be thinking too much to concentrate on studying or sleep.

* * *

 **(A/N)**

 **I know this is a pathetic update, but I felt bad about leaving the last part off on a cliff hanger and wanted to at least wrap that up.**

 **I could also lament about the poor emotional state I've been in lately, but as COVID-19 only gets worse, I think all of our lives are getting more difficult. I was in a bad mental place already earlier this year, honestly, and the threat of the virus just completely wiped me out financially and emotionally. I'm sorry (to both myself and my readers) that writing just doesn't afford me any release nowadays.**

 **Please stay safe. I'm very happy that I've been able to find a decently paying job in the midst of all this after getting laid off, but I'm also so worried about getting sick by being out. I hope you all can *and will* safely work from home, or practice proper social distancing.**


	18. Chapter 17

Bashira had trouble sleeping. She'd been wiped out enough to fall asleep easily but woken up halfway through the night and couldn't keep her mind quiet afterwards. As well as she did pushing back the thoughts of her dad, that only really left her to think about school (she'd missed a day, hadn't finished all of her original homework, and would just have to steal Wakako's notes _again_ to copy…).

Then there was Shoto, too, invading her dreams. Bashira half-awake fantasized for whatever reason about mundane things, like she and Shoto eating dinner together. She imagined the two of them just hanging out on the couch, nibbling on popcorn and watching something on TV. It would be like the Girl's Night but without the girls – just with Shoto.

But, in the end, Bashira did think of her dad and why he might have called her. It'd been over a month since she'd moved. What could he really have to say to her now? " _Hope all is going well, let me know when I'm a grandpa"_?

Noritaka Sada wasn't a bad guy but he was pretty spineless. That might have been why Bashira's mom had given Bashira her family's name rather than his.

There were some more absurd possibilities that Bashira considered: what if her dad was in trouble? Sick and dying? Did he get arrested and need bail money? Did he know she was now related to Endeavor and needed his wealth or renown for something?

Those ideas bothered Bashira the most because they lead her to imagine having that conversation with Shoto, asking him for money to take care of her useless parents. Those ideas bothered her the most because as angry and humiliated as she would be doing it, she _would_ do it. Even if it came to speaking one-on-one with Endeavor for a favor she would do that, too, if her parents needed it.

Yet it'd been over a month since she'd moved and been married. And her dad had only _just_ called her.

* * *

Bashira's alarm the next morning was more unwelcome than ever. She snoozed it twice before forcing herself up. It'd only be worse overall if she sulked in bed and missed another day. What would Shoto say?

The pair of them – Shoto and Bashira – hiked to class together with very little exchange. The schedule rotation worked out so that Bashira's first class was one that she shared with Wakako. It didn't leave her much time to overthink things or get too nervous.

Bashira did her best to keep emotionally distant when she walked into class. It didn't exactly work, as she felt her classmates' stares and heard their sudden, hushed silence. Her jaw tightened and so did her grip on her bag. Why were these kid so obsessed with her? She blindly made her way to her seat and plopped down. She was so instantly irritated that she decided returning Wakako's notes could wait.

Wakako, however, didn't wait.

"Kobayashi," the bruntette murmured, inching towards Bashira's desk. The girl was twirling her hair in her fingers (is that why it was so unnaturally curled?). Her eyes were downcast, which immediately put Bashira on alert.

"I have your notebook," Bashira offered first, after a pause. She leaned down to her bag to retrieve it, keeping a side-eye on Wakako. The other girl didn't loosen up.

Bashira found the notebook and turned to hold it out to Wakako. When her classmate made no movement to take it Bashira added, "Sorry I kept it for so long."

Bashira's eyes began searching. She noticed that Wakako was fidgety. Wakako was generally more of a straight-forward type. What was going on?

"What's wrong?"

Wakako's eyes flickered up, catching Bashira's, and while she didn't turn away her brow did furrow. "You don't know? You haven't read the headlines?"

Bashira's head tilted to the side. "Uh, no. I'm not on social media anymore. So I don't see much news." Wakako's gaze shot back down to the floor, leaving Bashira bothered. "What's going on, Ito?"

Wakako laced her fingers together, wringing them in an obviously bothered way. "Well... we all know now. About you and Todoroki."

There wasn't any heart-shocking bolt or brain-frazzling jolts at the revelation. Bashira was more numbed by it.

"You told me you two were related when I asked," Wakako went on, her voice quiet. "I guess it's not my place to be upset about you lying but you didn't have to, you know?"

Bashira didn't respond right away. Her arm that was holding the notebook drifted down, hovering over her desk.

"I didn't exactly lie," Bashira said, choosing her words carefully. "I just didn't tell the exact truth. It wasn't your place to know, _you know_?"

Bashira's eyes shot up again, sharp, and caught Wakako's again. The message was clear. ' _It wasn't any of your business to know. You, or the class, or the school, or the public. It was only_ **mine** _. And Shoto's_ '.

Wakako wilted. Her fingers were making knots with themselves.

"I don't blame you but..." The girl's words faltered as she struggled with what to say. "I know I'm not _really_ your friend or anything but if you need someone to confide in, I hope you might think of me."

The confession was more startling to Bashira than the news of her and Shoto going viral.

"It's just that, even before knowing what you were going through, you seemed like the kind of person who needed someone to support them. That's part of why I approached you. Some of the others think you're a little scary but I tried not to judge you. So now, knowing the truth, it makes me understand you a little more... This all must be really hard, right?"

Bashira, still stunned, only stared.

"I mean," Wakako exclaimed, "the news never has the full story. So, really, maybe you shouldn't bother to read that gossip." Wakako suddenly straightened, her expression going uncharacteristically rigid. "Please don't worry about what the papers and Internet sites are saying. Just take care of yourself. I know you're not a bad person. _Do your best_!"

Bashira could only continue to stare.

The arrival of their teacher settled the class down and Wakako, with a small smile and shallow bow, went back to her seat. Bashira turned back to her desk.

Wakako's notebook was still in her hand.

* * *

Bashira endured stares and whispers for the rest of the morning. When lunch break came she was one of the first out of the room. She had the instant urge to find an isolated space to just be alone and steam, but the thought was brief.

She realized fairly quickly that more than she wanted to be alone, she wanted to be with Shoto.

Why not give all those low-lives a show?

So Bashira resolutely ignored the attention that she never asked for and made her way to the canteen. The huge amount of students took a while to weave through, but Bashira found Shoto's class' regular area and plopped herself down in the (luckily) free seat next to the two-toned boy. His red-and-blue side turned to her, almost in surprise, but he went back to his food without any fuss.

"Are you not eating"? Shoto used as a greeting. Bashira's was left with her foot in her mouth.

Crap. She'd forgotten all about food. But whatever, she wasn't hungry anyway.

"I don't have much of an appetite," the girl responded. In the same breath, before she could double-think it, she asked, "Did you hear the news?"

Shoto half turned to her, quirking his brow. "What news?"

"It's not _new_ news," Bashira said with an eye-roll, "but it's news about us. _Us_ , us."

"You're just repeating the same words. I'm confused."

"Um, Todoroki..."

Bashira's eyes flashed up and over to Midoriya, who was across the table. She hadn't even taken to notice to whomever else was present.

Midoriya's eyes were earnest. "I think Kobayashi is talking about the tabloids. You and her - the marriage - it's... it's been leaked."

Shoto blinked. "Oh." Then he faced Bashira fully. "Is that bad?"

It was Bashira's cue to blink. Then, she had to think. Did it matter? Being seen as a piece of entertainment was annoying, sure. But how much was actually going to change?

"I don't know," Bashira answered slowly. Then, in more of a hurry, she switched to addressing Midoriya. "I didn't read anything. Is it just being reported that we're together or is it the whole thing?"

Bashira could only hope that Midoriya would understand what she meant in sublime, and it seemed like he did when he sent her a gentle smile.

"Everyone knows that you're in a legal union, but the specifics are only being speculated. Obviously there are a lot of rumors but you're not being explicitly called out for anything, uh, controversial."

Bashira nodded as a thoughtless response. Meanwhile, her brain was busy.

She and Shoto were married. That was a fact. The fact was out. People were talking about them. But people had been talking about them anyway, individually, for other reasons. They were being talked about together now, for the same reason.

What was so awful about that? Was Bashira over-simplifying it just to make it easier to handle? Or did she really so easily decide that she didn't care? She was upset on some level but not as much as she would have been at the beginning.

Shoto's mother had been forced into a Quirk Marriage, too. Were they both victims of Stockholm Syndrome? Bashira wasn't being abused, but she wasn't able to make all of her own choices, either. She could only try to rationalize her life as it was handed to her.

"I guess it doesn't matter, then," Bashira announced. Her mind was still in a fog, but what she said was the prominent message.

"Has anyone been bothering you?"

Bashira faced Shoto, both of her eyes finding both of his. Shoto wasn't one to wear his emotions in his expression, but him asking the question brought Bashira to feel his concern.

"Not really," Bashira replied. "No one's harassing me or anything. Just a few people asking questions."

Shoto accepted her answer and, again, turned back to his food. He grabbed a water chestnut and slice of red pepper in his chop sticks before moving onto the adjacent bowl of soba. When a mouthful was ready he lifted his utensils, cupped a hand under the food, and held it out to Bashira.

"You should eat something," Shoto said with a straight face. "Even if you don't plan on training today you're in a stressful mood, right? Your body needs fuel either way. You should make sure that you take in beneficial calories."

Bashira was embarrassed, and then indignant, and then embarrassed again. Shoto was offering to share his food with her? His chop sticks, his spit, _his germs_? Some part of Bashira raised up to claim that it was gross, but another louder voice shouted towards the intimacy of it.

Froppy, of all people, piped up. "Second-hand kiss, _kero._ I'm glad to see you two are getting closer."

In a direct result towards the comment, Bashira pursed her lips. She was ready to refuse Shoto's offer.

But she didn't.

Bashira opened her mouth and allowed Shoto to feed her. Although there was a tinge of shame she felt it was mostly, absolutely, satisfying.

As she chewed, Bashira was sure she was blushing. But still, once she swallowed, Bashira met Asui's gaze... and didn't say anything. The girls just stared towards each other.

Asui was the first to look away, offering what seemed, to Bashira, an amused curl if the lips. There were no more words exchanged.

Bashira left the cafeteria in a considerably better mood.

* * *

By the end of the day, Bashira had mulled over the situation, among other things. Mostly the other things.

With her adrenaline running, Bashira imagined a conversation with Shoto. She wanted that conversation to happen. She anticipated and prepared for that conversation.

Bashira really should have channeled her anxious energy into physical activity after classes let out, but she allowed herself to pace around the apartment instead. So when Shoto came home after his training, she was both ready and entirely unprepared.

Buzzing with nerves, Bashira didn't approach Shoto directly. She dusted around, acting occupied, and waited for Shoto to create an opening.

Shoto briefly greeted Bashira before retiring to his room.

It took almost twenty minutes of frustrated cleaning before Bashira made her way to Shoto's door and mustered up the nerve to tap on it. When she received permission, she opened the door.

Bashira had never actually been in Shoto's room before. It was his space, and she'd respected it. Seeing it then, for essentially the first time, Bashira realized how much it reflected her husband. It was simple. Practical. No unnecessary frills or significant decor. Just a calm place supplied with the bare necessities.

"Can we talk?" Bashira started. She wasn't sure how to address the subject. Therefore, she was blunt.

"Sure," Shoto responded. He was sitting cross-legged on a cushion at his desk. He'd probably been doing homework. Bashira had homework, too, but it hadn't been a priority for her.

"Is this all really fine?" Bashira asked. She had no desire to hesitate. She'd been stewing enough. "That we're exposed? You don't mind? It'll only be another huge scandal if we manage to break up." Bashira left the other end of the argument hanging, but impatiently offered, "...unless we decide to stay together?"

Shoto, predictably, didn't offer anything right way. He shifted in his seat, not turning towards Bashira but just making himself more comfortable. The pause was palpable.

"I don't mean to sound callous," Shoto supplied, "but it doesn't matter that much to me."

Bashira had expected as much, but the truth still stung.

"Do you want a family in the future, Shoto?" Using his first name, without an honorific, made Bashira uncomfortable. She could only do her best to stand tall. "Have you ever thought about that? About personal wants, outside of being a Hero?"

Shoto was still. "Not really. I have a family all ready, and we're still working on bettering ourselves to be better for each other."

That was understandable. Bashira had to admit it. She and Shoto had both come from dysfunctional upbringings. Shoto wanted to mend his past, while Bashira wanted to abandon hers.

"Do you want children?" Bashaira asked, her voice breathy. Her eyes were glued to the wall. What an awkward thing to throw out. "Do you want to raise future Heroes? Like... creating and training a next generation. Based on your own values. Doing the right thing."

Bashira held her eyes open. They were filling with tears. If she blinked, she would be crying. What the hell?

 _'Pull yourself together, Girl.'_

Once she felt she had enough control over herself, Bashira looked over. She knew her eyes were glossy but she felt confident enough that she wouldn't crumble. Shoto wasn't looking at her anyway, which made it easier.

It took another minute but Shoto did say, "I'm not sure. The idea is appealing. I just can't say it's ever been a goal of mine."

His honesty, again, was both expected and hurtful.

"I never really wanted kids either," Bashira admitted. Her gaze went unfocused. "But I've thought about it more recently. I didn't have great parents, but I want to be a great parent."

 _'If I ever am a parent.'_

"Yeah," Shoto's voice drifted into the air. "I can agree."

Bashira smiled thinly.

 _'But would you want to be a parent with_ _ **me**_ _?'_

A silence stretched on. Bashira wasn't brave enough to breech it.

"Okay," Bashira eventually exhaled. "Good night."

There were an infinite amount of sentences that Bashira wanted to add on. It just wasn't the time to present them. She settled for holding them in, knowing she would be up for half of the night going over all of the words in her head.

But that was fine. She'd live.

There was always another day, right?

"You'll be a good mother."

Bashira halted. Her fingers dug into the wall.

What?

"If you do have children," Shoto remarked coolly, "I think that you have all of the makings to be a great support system."

Chagrin. Bashira was immediately chagrined.

"I don't want to be a support system," Bashira hissed, looking back over her shoulder. "I want to be a mother. _A real_ mother. And a partner."

 _'With **you**. You're my husband.'_

Bashira re-caught Shoto's eyes in a glare. "I didn't have a choice in this, but I want to be a good wife. I just... I just don't know how to do it."

The tears couldn't be held back after that. Bashira felt the first few falling down her cheeks so she turned away, brushing them off as inconspicuously as possible.

' _I want to be a good wife. A good person. A good mother..._

 _And I want to be those things with **you** , Shoto._ '

Shit.

Since when? Since when was she so devoted?

Was it actually Shoto as a person that she wanted, or just the idea on the whole?

Was Bashira horrible for questioning it?

Was she more weak than she'd thought? Was she really that needy?

Was it wrong to question it so much?

Were her feelings towards Shoto even legitimate?

Bashira carried all of those questions away with her. She fled to her bedroom. Shoto didn't follow.

Bashira barely slept that night. As she'd predicted.

She just cried.

* * *

 **(A/N) I only want to say that I wrote this in a rush. I'll edit it ASAP. I really need to go through this whole story (again) and take physical notes. I have the long-standing plot in mind, but I forget which points have already been planted, and which conversations have already been touch on. Sorry if it seems to go in circles (although that's part of the point in Shoto and Bashira's unconventional, touch-and-go relationship). "Real" writers outline all of that stuff, but I write on a whim, so things aren't in order, inevitably. *Undecided face emoji***

 **So unprofessional of me. *Undecided face emoji***

 **Thanks for reading anyway! And HOPEFULLY reviewing~**


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